


Darkly Dawns the Duo

by soulfulsin



Series: Darkly Dawns [1]
Category: Darkwing Duck (Cartoon), DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Gen, Not sure where I'm going with this, hey look i've figured out how to tag things now, i'm special, might be a one-shot but it depends on the response
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-09-18 10:03:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 30,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16992936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulfulsin/pseuds/soulfulsin
Summary: An alternate universe in which Gosalyn Waddlemeyer and Webbigail Vanderquack are adopted from the same orphanage, associated with SHUSH.After being humiliated by the girls, Doofus Drake vows revenge. Meanwhile, Taurus Bulba, wanting the Ram Rod device to function, is tracking down Gosalyn. He may, however, have more on hand than he bargained for.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is based off a dream I had, where Webby was at an orphanage and trying to impress Mrs. Beakley so she could get adopted.

 

Eleven-year-old Webbigail Vanderquack crouched in the shadows and watched the competition. The orphanage had constructed an impromptu stage in the cafeteria and Webby waited in the wings for her chance to impress the big wigs at SHUSH. SHUSH recruited children at this orphanage and then trained them to be future spies. The ones that survived training, that was. Webby didn’t know what befell those who failed and she had a feeling she didn’t want to find out.

 

Anxious, she wrung her hands, glad no one was there to witness her nerves. The others waited behind the curtain too, though they had given her a wide berth. Gosalyn Waddlemeyer, her best friend, was on stage and was the only one who might have cared that Webby was antsy. The other children thought there was something unnatural about and Webby and kept their distance. They were hidden behind the food supplies and whispered frantically; she ignored them.

 

Rumor had it that Agent 22, the legendary spy, was here and looking for fresh talent. She hadn’t taken on any proteges since the program started ten years ago and Webby had targeted her as the one to impress. She had been practicing and training in secret for months for this moment. She wasn’t naive, however. She knew that the others had been doing so as well. Her chances were slim, but she would take what she could get.

 

She was next and her heart was in her mouth. Shoving aside all doubt, she primed herself emotionally and physically. Excitement was allowed, but fear could not be permitted to take root. Fear would destroy her.

 

“Webbigail Vanderquack!” the headmistress called and Webby started. She had been expecting her name and yet, hearing it still surprised her. Glancing around, she looked to see whether anyone might be wishing her good luck. No one materialized.

 

Shoulders back, she walked onto the stage just as Gosalyn was leaving. Gosalyn flipped her the thumbs’ up sign and grinned. Webby smiled back. She couldn’t muster a grin; her nerves were too raw. As she glanced over the audience, she saw Darkwing Duck and then, her heart in her throat, she spotted Agent 22. Her partner in crime, Scrooge McDuck, was beside her and watching intently. This was serious, then. Well, more serious than she had previously given it credit for.

 

Her opponent for this match was someone SHUSH had sponsored. She didn’t know who it was ahead of time, which prevented cheating but also meant she was going into this blind. Stretching, she spied her opponent and she stifled a groan. It was Doofus Drake. That meant she’d either have to throw the match or risk offending the powerful Drake family. Either way, she lost. That must be why Mr. McDuck was here. He could pay off the Drake family if they chose one of the orphans to smooth their ruffled feathers.

 

Doofus produced an electrified whip and Webby gasped, rolling away before it connected. The whip gave him a superior reach, not to mention he wouldn’t have to exert himself as much as she did to avoid it. Either SHUSH was skewing the odds in their favor or Doofus hadn’t run this by them before ascending to the stage. The reason didn’t matter right now. She wasn’t sure how high the voltage on the whip was and she didn’t fancy finding out.

 

Staring at him, she assessed the situation. The crowd was shouting something and she tuned them out. At the moment, they were nothing but a distraction. She had to anticipate where Doofus and the whip would be and then move ahead of it. Fortunately, he wasn’t very fast. He didn’t need to be. That whip more than compensated for his lack of speed and dexterity.

 

Webby ducked, rolled, and swept his feet out from under him. The whip bounced and then locked around her wrist. Depressing a button, Doofus electrocuted her and she cried out, punching him in the face despite the energy coursing through her. She tugged, attempting to free her wrist, but it was stuck tight. Her heart pounded but she wasn’t sure whether it was because of the whip or the terror of losing.

 

She yanked the whip and him closer and ignored the pain to deliver a roundhouse kick that prompted him to lose his grip on her wrist and the whip. The two went flying and Webby panted, falling to her knees. She smelt burnt ozone and her wrist was lacerated, the skin cracked and bleeding. When the pain from that hit, she’d be sorry. Right now, adrenaline blocked out most of it. It wouldn’t last, though.

 

Doofus pushed himself to his feet and before Webby could attempt to do the same, Gosalyn dashed in. Doofus was recovering his whip when Gosalyn punched him in the face and then kicked his feet out from under him. Webby stood, shaky, uncertain her legs would support her. If she was electrocuted again, she was through. 

 

“Enough!” Agent 22 cried, pulling Webby’s and Gosalyn’s attention away from Doofus temporarily. “That is quite enough!”

 

Doofus rolled around like a turtle on its back before righting himself. His expression was livid and he rounded on the girls. Gosalyn stood protectively in front of Webby, whose legs again collapsed beneath her. Her chest was tight and pain exploded through her. Doofus had recovered his whip to boot.

 

Agent 22 jumped onto the stage and glowered at Doofus Drake. Tangling with fellow children was one thing, but he had no desire to infuriate one of the greatest SHUSH spies ever. Casting Gosalyn and Webby dark looks promising further pain later, he limped off the stage. Gosalyn tried to scoop Webby up and ended up getting dragged down by her.

 

“Are you all right, dear?” Agent 22 asked Webby, who thought she might have bitten her tongue. Blood flooded her mouth.

 

“She’d be better if SHUSH hadn’t sicced that jerk on her,” Gosalyn grumbled.

 

“I wanted to see a competition, not an unfair match,” 22 replied. She surveyed Webby and shook her head. Webby could feel her hopes crumbling into ash. Despite what she’d done, it wasn’t good enough. She’d needed Gosalyn to steady her and rescue her in the end, which meant she wasn’t SHUSH material. That had to be what that headshake meant.

 

“Does this mean I’m disqualified?” Webby asked, her voice trembling.

 

“You can’t hold this against her,” Gosalyn argued. “It’s not her fault. She didn’t know that her opponent would be a jackass.”

 

“Gosalyn Waddlemeyer!” the headmistress scolded and Gosalyn pretended to look abashed, but Webby knew from experience that her best friend was only feigning contrition. 

 

“I’m not holding this against her,” 22 reassured them. 

 

Stymied, the headmistress ordered Webby and Gosalyn out of the room while the try-outs continued. Gosalyn fumed, arms folded across her chest and Webby was torn between anguish over her wrist and the dread feeling that she’d practiced and toiled for nothing. Gosalyn’s eyes narrowed and she tugged Webby by her good wrist toward the infimary so that she could bandage her injuries. Webby cast one last glance over at the cafeteria and then sighed, reluctantly letting Gosalyn patch her up.

 

“It wasn’t fair,” Gosalyn grumbled. “They could’ve given you warning before they sicced that jerk on you.”

 

“It was supposed to stimulate a real world FOWL versus SHUSH fight,” Webby argued. “I wouldn’t have had forewarning with that.”

 

“You would’ve had the case file. You would’ve known what kind of weapons your enemy had. They sent you in completely blind and then punished you for getting hurt. That’s not fair. That’s total bullcrap.”

 

Webby smiled, grateful both for her friend’s indignation on her behalf and her soothing ministrations. The medication was a balm, but it didn’t eradicate her fear that she’d lost out without even having a fair go of it. She and Gosalyn brooded; it looked like the rest of the orphanage had forgotten about them. No one came to investigate their whereabouts for a half hour and then an hour. 

 

“I wanted Darkwing Duck to notice me,” Gosalyn said quietly to break the silence. “Who was it for you?”

 

“Agent 22,” Webby said, just as softly. 

 

“Guess we threw away our shots, huh?”

 

“I guess so.”

 

“Hey, if they didn’t want us, then screw them, right?” Gosalyn said and draped an arm about Webby’s shoulders. “We don’t need them. We have each other.”

 

While she appreciated the solidarity, she didn’t know if that was enough. She’d hated being on her own, even if Gosalyn was her honorary sister. The other kids wouldn’t fraternize with them and for the most part, Webby could let that go. For the most part. But she wanted to be liked so badly that it hurt to be rejected. Gosalyn, by contrast, didn’t seem to care.

 

To her surprise, the next person to walk through the infirmary’s doorway wasn’t their headmistress but Darkwing Duck. Behind him were Agent 22, Scrooge McDuck, and a lanky man with red hair, aircraft goggles, and flight pants. Baffled, she cocked her head at them. Gosalyn squeezed her shoulder.

 

“I wondered where you were holing up,” Scrooge McDuck said. “How are you feeling, lass?”

 

“I’m okay,” Webby said, uncertain whether they wanted the truth. 

 

“You don’t have to worry about Doofus Drake anymore,” Mr. McDuck continued, leaning on his cane. “We took care of him. And now we’re going to take care of you two. We’ve already signed the paperwork. All you need to do is pack your things and come with us.”

 

“Really?” Gosalyn burst out. “You mean it? This isn’t some sort of trick?”

 

“No trick,” Darkwing Duck promised and Gosalyn beamed. Webby resisted the temptation to rub her sore wrist.

 

“Really?” Webby said, looking at 22 and Mr. McDuck.

 

“Aye, lass,” Scrooge promised her.

 

“We’ll see each other, won’t we?” Gosalyn said, glancing at Webby.

 

“You couldn’t keep me away,” Webby promised. 

 

“Why do I have the feeling that we’ve bitten off more than we can chew?” Darkwing Duck said, but his reciprocating smile was just as wide as Gosalyn’s.

 

“You may have,” 22 said stiffly. “But I know what I’m doing.”

  
“And I don’t?” Darkwing countered.

 

“You never do,” she said haughtily.

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The villains are introduced and we see Webby and Gosalyn attempt to adjust to their new surroundings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, some ground rules for this AU. The boys never found Della because they didn’t have Webby--compare that to Night of the Hunter, where they did find her, albeit it took a lot longer. Then again, Webby is older in that fanfic. Lena is...somewhere...she hasn’t come up yet. (I literally have no idea what happened to Lena). So no Magica either.
> 
> Any event that could have happened without Webby has done so. That means, for instance, that Day of the Only Child occurred, just without Dewey seeing the error of his ways thanks to Webs. There was no Last Crash of the Sunchaser. But anything that Webby wasn't integral to transpired.

Taurus Bulba did not enjoy seeing his mistakes roam about free. He had wanted the Ram Rod and, to that end, had kidnapped and tortured Professor Waddlemeyer to procure the code for using it. Perhaps due to the torture or perhaps because Professor Waddlemeyer was a pretentious jerk, he’d perished before Bulba obtained the code. What made matters worse was that he’d lost the Ram Rod afterward due to the Beagle Boys’ meddling; they were too stupid to figure out how to operate it and he’d killed one of his henchmen for letting them get away with it. That hadn’t satisfied anything, least of all his vexation on losing the Ram Rod.

However, he had a different plan in motion now. Gosalyn Waddlemeyer, now an orphan thanks to Taurus Bulba, might know the code. Unfortunately, she was no longer in state custody and adoption records were sealed. That meant he’d have to do the hard work of locating her himself.

Thankfully, this was the day and age of the internet. If something was important, you could find it online, probably with terrible security about it. FOWL knelt before Bulba’s will and he had even pulled rank on Steelbeak to get the best hackers working on Gosalyn’s location and her new foster family. Thus far, they’d found nothing, which he thought was a testament to their incompetence rather than a demonstration of how tight the orphanage’s security was.

Unless, of course, the orphanage was linked to SHUSH. In that case, ascertaining Gosalyn’s location might be a trifle more difficult. He didn’t see why SHUSH would advocate for children; children were worthless as far as he was concerned. Waddlemeyer had held out for so long because he didn’t want Gosalyn to get hurt. If he’d had any sense of self-preservation, he would have spilled the beans and let the child die.

At the moment, Bulba was drumming his fingers on the desk and glowering at his computer. The Eggheads had more skill with hacking than he did and he had no idea what to look for. The dark web, where the information was undoubtedly housed, remained elusive to him. Oh, sure, he could access some of it, but not the pertinent data. It was infuriating.

He could also storm the orphanage and demand the adoption papers, but if the orphanage was linked to SHUSH, he’d end up alerting them to his plans. It’d be annoying to have to murder them simply because they stood in his way. Plus, the police took a dim view of mass killing, regardless of the circumstances. You simply couldn’t explain to them that some people just needed to die.

All of this waiting was making him impatient. Growling, he sat up in his prison cell and glowered at the book he was attempting to read. The Prince by Machiavelli was a classic and it ought to have held his attention, but he couldn’t get his mind off Gosalyn Waddlemeyer. Perhaps she’d be more inclined to reveal the code once he had leverage over her. Of course, that entailed finding her first. He growled. No, he did not like waiting. At all.

When the guards came, he would stow the computer and pretend that he was a repentant inmate. The facade convinced the guards, who were too stupid to see through it. Anyone who was that stupid deserved whatever they had coming to them. Flinging them from a high place was tempting, but he couldn’t afford to tip his hand too soon. He had work to do and information to find. If he started killing guards indiscriminately, someone might investigate the situation.

He could pay the orphanage a visit himself, but that would also tip his hand. Curses, he’d have to rely upon someone looking into the matter and then relaying the information. They’d have to be circumspect, too, because if the orphanage was linked to SHUSH, any misstep would put them on alert. What he wanted to know was whether Gosalyn had any friends that might draw her out of hiding. The way to do that was to query the headmistress directly, assuming she’d divulge that information. The law protected underage children, which was another source of vexation to him. Laws muddled everything and barred his way. He didn’t care about breaking them, but all that red tape required patience to unravel.

As much as he hated Steelbeak, whose charm and arrogance grated on his nerves, he might need his Eggheads to assist him. Steelbeak was also not incarcerated, which was bully for him and another vexation to Bulba. Bulba rose from his bunk and snarled, huffing like a bull about to charge. All that pent-up aggression and homicidal rage had no outlet.

He flicked a switch and a punching bag lowered from the ceiling. It was not as satisfying as hitting real flesh and it was the only thing he could safely pound. As he knocked it about, he recalled beating Waddlemeyer to a pulp. Blood had flown everywhere and he was never happier than when he was wearing someone else’s blood. Showering after that had been immensely pleasurable; he’d been secure in the knowledge that his bruised knuckles were a sharp counterpoint to Waddlemeyer’s battered and broken body.

Professor Waddlemeyer’s absence had not gone unremarked upon for long, alas. This was part of the reason he was in prison, though not the entire reason. As he had said, he hated when people stood in his way. When they persisted, they perished. It was as simple as that. The judge didn’t see it that way and Bulba had been unable to bring him around to his point of view.

Sighing, Taurus Bulba took a step back. His eyes narrowed. No, the synthetic fabric was nowhere near as satisfying. He wanted to snap someone’s neck and no one would oblige him. It was as if committing homicide was a crime and he was being punished for it, which was preposterous. Those people had deserved what came to them.

Just as Gosalyn would deserve what came to her, as soon as he retrieved the information he wanted from her. Now, if she would oblige him and reveal it without him having to resort to torture, that would work better for both of them. He could grant her a quick and merciful death, as opposed to the painful and unpleasant one that awaited her now.

And really, he was being charitable. He didn’t understand why someone wouldn’t jump at that chance.

But never mind that for the moment. He needed something to take his mind off things. Since punching a bag and reading weren’t helping, he settled for contacting a stooge. Perhaps they had good news. Or any news at all. Thus far, he was 0 for zip.

And it looked like he’d remain that way because no one had anything definitive. Growling, he pounded a fist into his palm. Sometimes, you had to do things yourself, because everyone around you had no clue. Picking up the phone, he contacted the Eggheads and instructed them to get moving. Steelbeak would probably balk at Bulba pulling rank again, but he didn’t care. To hell with him. Taurus Bulba was more important and a better criminal than Steelbeak could ever aspire to be.

Now all he had to do was sit back and wait. Again. Curse the waiting game. And if he kept saying “curse” things, he’d turn into Flintheart Glomgold. That was an unpleasant proposition.

Get the kid, get the code, kill the kid. It shouldn’t be too difficult, yet he was having problems getting his plans into motion. He hated delays. And someone would die soon for this. He just hadn’t made up his mind who yet.

His gaze wandered over to today’s headlines. Darkwing Duck was in the news again, as per his usual, both because of his flamboyance and because some idiot didn’t have the common sense to avoid him. Megavolt, who was as dim as one of his bulbs, had borne the brunt of Darkwing’s justice spiel this time. He had nothing but contempt for Darkwing Duck. The vigilante had yet to run afoul of one of Bulba’s schemes, but it was only a matter of time until that duck stuck his bill where it didn’t belong. He was nothing if not persistent.

It was like Salvador Dali’s painting, except this time, it was the Persistence of Stupidity.

Though SHUSH agents were supposed to be secretive, he knew for a fact Darkwing Duck was an agent. He wasn’t exactly quiet about his reputation. Then again, Darkwing Duck wasn’t quiet about anything. He couldn’t keep his beak shut to save his life.

However, the idea of Darkwing Duck adopting a child was inconceivable. He was too much of a risk-taker and far too self-assured to take on a protege. Sidekicks, as he was famous for saying, only slowed you down.

Taurus Bulba steepled his fingers together. Perhaps running through SHUSH’s roster would prove helpful. Of course, that supposed he could access it. Considering the luck he was having with the orphanage, it was easier said than done.

Seriously, who did he have to kill to get decent service around here?

Never mind. If you want a job done right…

* * *

“Do it yourself,” Doofus Drake snapped, not in the mood for his parents’ pandering. In fact, he wasn’t in the mood for much of anything. After his defeat at the hands of Gosalyn and Webby, all he could think about was revenge. No one made Doofus Drake look like a fool. No one who expected to survive that intact, that was.

While Doofus thought he knew where Webbigail Vanderquack had gone, he couldn’t gain entrance easily. For one thing, McDuck Manor’s security system was legendary. For another, he had no legitimate business there. Showing up to have someone throttle Webby wasn’t his speed and would be far too obvious. No, if he wanted revenge on the girls, he needed a softer touch.

He had vast disposals of cash on hand, should he need to bribe a few people and grease a few palms. He needed to get the girls out in the open, that was the first thing. From there...hmm. What he wanted was for them to be humiliated in turn, in public, and then have to beg him for mercy. A cruel smile spread across his beak. Yes, he liked that idea very much.

For that, he’d need to discover their weaknesses. Clearly, having families wasn’t a strength they possessed. He sneered. However, he doubted that reminding them that they were orphans would prove beneficial.

Something flicked across his laptop screen and he frowned, attempting to place it. It flickered on there again and this time, he succeeded in taking a screenshot before it vanished. Pulling up the screenshot, he contemplated the message. FOWL was looking for agents. Hardly surprising, considering the casualty rate the organization incurred. Incompetence had its price.

Someone had learned of his involvement with the orphanage and was looking for an angel investor. When he frowned at the ad, his computer crashed, rebooted, and by the time it had finished, which was well over five minutes later, he discovered his whole hard drive had been erased, save for the operating system. The little light next to his webcam glared a steady red.

While he’d been scanning the ad, someone had installed malware on his computer. He glowered. On the rare occasion that something happened to his electronics, someone handled it for him. He didn’t know how to remedy this by himself. If he brought it into a tech company, however, they were bound to notice he’d been poking his beak where it didn’t belong. That was problematic. The last thing he needed was for someone to link him back to FOWL.

A message popped up on his screen from an unknown sender. The sender’s name was scrambled, consisting of random characters, and a webcam image accompanied it. Although he could discern movement in the frame, the person himself was pixelated and his voice disguised.

“I assume by now you’ve had a chance to think about our offer.”

“How do you expect me to make a decision when you gave me five minutes and then wiped my hard drive?”

“You’re a bright child,” the person responded and sneered, sounding as if he doubted it, but that the claim had to be made, regardless, as an attempt to flatter him. Doofus responded well to flattery and puffed himself up, feeling important.

“Surely you can see the advantages in working with FOWL.”

“You never said what you’ll be doing.”

“And is that important?”

“I’m not investing in someone and giving them handouts unless I know why.”

“You know who Gosalyn Waddlemeyer and Webbigail Vanderquack are, don’t you?”

Doofus jumped to his feet and growled, slamming his palms down on the table. Indignation and resentment coursed through him and it took effort not to shake the laptop screen. Chest heaving, he glared back at the obfuscated figure.

“I see you do,” came the wry response. “What if I were to tell you that there was a way to make them pay for what they’ve done to you?”

“How do you know they’ve done anything at all?”

“An ego like yours does not suffer fools lightly. We have enemies in common, Doofus Drake. Therefore, I propose an alliance. You are free to move about Duckburg and St. Canard, whereas I am sadly confined for the time being.”

The way he said it made Doofus wonder whether his imprisonment was more of his own design than someone holding him captive.

“And what do I get out of this?”

“You can bring the girls to their knees before I finish them.”

Doofus’s feathers stood on end. Killing them was a step too far for him. He wanted them embarrassed, yes, but not dead. Murder was on a whole other level. He wasn’t a complete psychopath.

“You’re not completely sold. I can tell. What if you leave me to worry about what becomes of the girls after you’re done humiliating them?”

“I can agree with that.”

“Excellent. I’ll have one of my people meet you tomorrow morning and we can start trawling for the girls. I’ll have further guidance for you with my henchmen.”

The video disappeared before he had a chance to recall it and his computer restarted again, eliminating all traces of the communication. His desktop was back and it was like nothing had ever happened. One thing was for certain--FOWL knew how to screw around with equipment. Nothing he did was secure, then, if they could hack into his laptop so easily. He refused to let that bother him. After all, he had the money to buy a new laptop should this one displease him.

For the meanwhile, he could always destroy something or berate his servants/parents. Then he’d go for a soothing bubble bath. Yelling at other people and breaking things was so exhausting. Being the richest kid in Duckburg was a tough gig. He didn’t know how he did it.  


* * *

Webby was flabbergasted at the size of McDuck Manor. On her nightly phone call to Gosalyn, she gushed about how large the manor was and how she still hadn’t explored all of the rooms. She also discussed the triplets, who were about her age and had taken to her right away. She said it was like having a family all of a sudden and she loved it.

Gosalyn didn’t feel quite the same. While she adored Darkwing Duck, she still felt like she was missing something. At present, she gazed around her bedroom and didn’t feel like she belonged there. Drake Mallard, as a person, was rather flat and without nuance. He had thrown his civilian identity together in a hurry, and, as a result, spent most of his time walking around the house threatening inanimate objects if they crossed him.

Hearing Webby on the phone only reinforced how lonely Gosalyn felt. Someone knocked at the door after she’d finished the call and she frowned, opening it to reveal a young boy who stammered over his words.

“H-h-hi, I’m Honker,” he said. “You guys just moved in, right? I’m your next door neighbor.”

From downstairs, she heard a gregarious voice welcoming Drake Mallard to the neighborhood while a woman trilled about how the house needed tidying up. A teenager was grumping about.

“Honker Muddlefoot. And those are my parents downstairs...and--and my older brother, Tank. He’s kind of a bully.”

Gosalyn scoffed. “I know how to handle bullies.”

“Wanna be friends?” he said. It was on the tip of Gosalyn’s tongue to tell him that she didn’t need friends when she had Webby, but Webby was in the next town over and she was lonely now.

“Sure,” she said and he held out his hand for her to shake. She spat in hers and then shook his. He looked repulsed and she grinned.

“Worried about a few germs?” she teased.

“My mom’s kinda a neat freak,” he confessed, staring at his wet palm before wiping it on his shirt. “I’m not used to people spitting near me unless they’re giving me a wet willy.”

She opted not to inquire further.

“Wanna come down and meet my family?” he asked and she followed him downstairs. Drake Mallard looked vexed with Binkie Muddlefoot, who was telling him all the things that he needed to do around the house and the proper way to raise a child. Gosalyn could tell with one glance that Drake intended to throw her out as soon as possible.

“Gonna start up the old barbecue, all right, pal?” Herb said and then, before Drake had a chance to object, he sauntered off toward the deck. Drake growled, which told Binkie she had another opening because she launched into a fresh spiel about child rearing.

“They’re kind of a handful,” Honker murmured to Gosalyn. “They mean well, but they’re also nuts.”

“You can say that again,” Gosalyn muttered back.

“I didn’t even invite you over! You just barged right in!” Drake growled.

“That’s what good neighbors are for,” Binkie replied, unrepentant. “Now, why don’t you sit right now while Herb makes us tofu burgers? We don’t eat meat.”

“‘We don’t eat meat’,” Drake mimicked. “Do you guys do anything fun?”

“On Saturdays, we attend yoga classes,” Binkie said.

“Oh, lovely. If I ever want to learn how to contort myself into an idiot, I’ll inform you,” Drake said and stormed off toward the patio to head off Herb. Gosalyn grimaced. She wasn’t sure whether their neighbors were vegetarians or just ate chicken feed. She was afraid to ask.

“You don’t attend yoga classes, do you?” Gosalyn said quietly to Honker.

“Not if I can help it,” Honker muttered back.

“Then what do you do for fun?”

“I can show you if you’d like,” he said shyly.

“It’s either that or listen to Dad complain all day,” she said. “Lead away.”

* * *

Webby was exploring with the triplets. She had quickly figured out that red equaled Huey, blue was Dewey, and green was Louie. Beyond that, however, she wasn’t making much inroads. Huey was obsessed with the JWG, Dewey with adventure, and Louie with money. The manor was huge and although the triplets had been there for a year now, they hadn’t penetrated its depths. They also knew there were links from here to the Money Bin and the underwater lab, though they hadn’t ascertained where yet.

Webby didn’t care. She was just excited to be with people who wanted to be around her. Bouncing along with them, she listened to their running commentary and arguments.

“Since SHUSH recruited you, does that mean you’re going to be trained to be a spy?” Dewey asked. He had pulled out a sword from one of Scrooge’s many storage rooms and was brandishing it about. Huey scowled at his younger sibling and recited something from the JWG. She ignored him.

“Probably,” Webby said.

“That’s so cool,” Dewey said. “Can I train with you too? Go on secret spy missions?”

“Webby’s probably spent her life working up to this point,” Huey said. “She’s probably better equipped for the rigorous training than you are.”

“I could totally handle,” Dewey said.

“SHUSH training has put several people in the hospital,” she said. “And those are people who were like me, taught from an early age how to handle it. I’m not sure how well you’d do…”

“You can just tell him he’d suck,” Louie said, not looking up from his cell phone. “And since it’s life or death with no reward money, it’d be a hard pass from me anyway.”

“Who were you talking to on the phone?” Dewey asked. For some reason, Webby was a fount of interest to him and she didn’t mind obliging him.

“Gosalyn. She’s my best friend,” Webby said. “We grew up together at the orphanage. Okay, maybe not quite, because she’s only been there for a year or so. Ever since her grandfather went missing.”

“What happened to her grandfather?” Dewey asked.

“Don’t pry,” Huey scolded. Webby guessed that because he was the eldest, he felt honor bound to prevent his brother from being rude. Webby didn’t mind.

“We don’t know. Her grandfather was working on a top-secret invention called the Ram Rod when he vanished without a trace one October day.”

“And he never reappeared?” Dewey asked. She shook her head.

“He was her only family...I don’t even know what happened to mine. The headmistress said I’d been there for a long time, since before she’d started.”

Webby’s gaze was downcast and then she looked up, injecting cheer she didn’t feel into her voice. “I like to pretend they were super secret spies working for an agency like SHUSH and they perished during an important mission to save the world. Of course, they saved the world, but they had to sacrifice themselves to do it. You know, stuff like that.”

“We’re kinda orphans too,” Dewey said and she stared, startled, at the blue-clad boy.

“Our mom went into outer space and went missing,” Huey said. “We don’t know what happened to her.”

“I’d like to think she’s still out there, staring down at us, waiting to be rescued,” Dewey added.

Louie looked uncomfortable, but he didn’t say anything. Rather, his beak tightened like he wanted to. She didn’t want to pry; the last thing she wanted was to scare off her new family.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“It’s whatever,” Dewey said, brushing it off. “So...when does your training start? What are you going to tackle first? If I can’t participate, can I come with?”

“I don’t know to all three of those,” she said and smiled at him. “We’ll see, I guess.”

“You don’t have any arch-enemies yet, do you?” Dewey asked.

“No, but I might’ve made an enemy out of Doofus Drake,” she said and Louie flinched. He put his phone in his hoodie pocket and stared at her. Dewey, meanwhile, dropped his sword on the floor where it clanged.

“The Doofus Drake?” Louie asked, incredulous.

“Is there another I don’t know about?” she replied, baffled.

“The snotty little rich kid who held me captive and was going to do something sinister with a walnut and an umbrella?” Louie asked.

“Uh...sure?” she said. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“It’s a long story,” Huey cut in. “You really got on his bad side?”

“Oh boy,” Louie said. “Just what we need. Doofus to show up again.”

“We’ll handle it when it happens,” Dewey said, shooting his younger brother a dirty look for possibly alarming Webby. Webby liked him better than his siblings so far, perhaps because their personalities seemed so similar.

“Now, let’s see if we can find the hidden tunnels to the Money Bin,” Dewey said.

“That, I can get behind,” Louie said. He frowned, Doofus clearly still on his mind. “The more things I can throw at him, the better.”

 


	3. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gosalyn and Webby are up to mischief before Christmas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is short. I'm Jewish and writing something that transpires during Christmas made me feel like a pretender, so...yeah.

It was Christmas at the orphanage, which meant little to nothing. The orphans had no families, therefore no family togetherness, and for all that there was supposed to be good will and love towards others, the Christmas season tended to make others irritable and grouchy. Webby wanted to believe in the purity of heart that was supposed to emerge only during Christmas...but Gosalyn’s Grinch-like attitude punctured her balloon.

 

“It’s a crock, is what it is,” Gosalyn declared, folding her arms across her chest as they watched the younger kids decorate a tree. “It’s just a scheme to get more presents and swindle money out of people.”

 

“We’ll get adopted,” Webby said, sensing where Gosalyn’s true irritation lay. “Hang on, okay? Don’t lose hope.”

 

“I’m not losing hope,” Gosalyn huffed. She stared at the tree harder and if looks could kill, she’d have set it and the children on fire. “I’m only saying ‘bah, humbug’.”

 

“Wouldn’t it be great if I met Scrooge McDuck and he said that?” Webby cried, bouncing.

 

“You’re weird,” Gosalyn said and elbowed her in the ribs. “You’re lucky I like you.”

 

“Yeah, I am. Now...do you wanna go see if there are any presents hidden in the rafters?”

 

Gosalyn’s grin matched Webby’s and they both looked mischievous. Without another word, they darted from the room and began the arduous and neck-breaking climb into the rafters and the attic. They were young and relatively carefree. And besides, Christmas only came once a year. The time for spoiling themselves was now...before anyone else got a look at the presents.

 

“I call dibs on a grappling hook!” Webby announced.

 

“Do you really think they’re going to give a grappling hook to a kid?” Gosalyn scoffed.

 

“For kids who are being trained to be spies, yes,” Webby said and grinned at her sister. “What? Don’t you want one too?”

 

“Darkwing Duck has a grappling hook in his gas gun,” Gosalyn said. If Webby was an aficionado of Scrooge McDuck, then Gosalyn was one of Darkwing Duck. “Of course I want one. You’re not getting yours before me.”

 

She blew Webby a raspberry and then puffed out her chest. “I am older than you.”

 

“By two months!”

 

“Still counts,” Gosalyn said with a wicked grin.

 

“No way!”

 

“Yes way.”

 

“We’re all equal on Christmas,” Webby said.

 

“But some of us are more equal than others.”

 

Putting on an extra burst of speed, Gosalyn raced ahead of her sister. Webby blew her a raspberry back and bounced off the wall, using the momentum to propel her further. To counter her, Gosalyn did a roll off the ceiling and soon, they were competing to see who could do the fanciest moves to get up to the rafters and from there, into the attic. If anyone saw them, they probably would have shouted for them to get down before they broke something. It was probably a good thing no one saw them.

 

“Grappling hook, come to mama!” Gosalyn crooned.

 

“In your dreams!” Webby countered.

 

They reached the rafters and, from there, ascended into the attic. To their dismay, there were no presents here. In fact, the attic was completely empty. Baffled, worried, and disappointed, they turned to each other.

 

“Did you really think I’d hide the presents up here again? After last year’s debacle?” a stern voice called and the girls whirled, Gosalyn almost losing her footing. Webby yanked her back up before she fell out through the attic trapdoor.

 

They looked down to spy the headmistress staring up at them from her office. “Really, girls?”

 

Gosalyn managed a weak, embarrassed chuckle. “We weren’t looking for presents.”

 

“Really,” the headmistress said and the expression on her face, which Webby could see when she poked her head out through the door, was unimpressed. “And why don’t I believe you?”

 

“Uh…” Gosalyn faltered and looked to Webby for backup.

 

“We were just checking to see how dusty the attic is,” Webby lied and the headmistress sighed, shaking her head.

 

“Webbigail Vanderquack, you are a terrible liar. Both of you, get down from there this instant.”

 

Rolling their eyes, they flipped out through the trapdoor and landed on their feet, rather like cats, on the headmistress’s office floor. She raised her eyebrows at them.

 

“And for your information, your grappling hooks are in a secure location. You’ll find them tomorrow, like everyone else.”

 

Once the headmistress ushered them out, Gosalyn mimicked her. “‘You’ll find them tomorrow, like everyone else.’”

 

“Hey, at least she told us what we got,” Webby offered.

 

“Or did she? She could’ve been lying to get our hopes up. Or it’s an elaborate joke. Or--”

 

Gosalyn’s gaze lit up and she spun her sister around. “What if Darkwing Duck is giving out the presents this year? Maybe that’s why she told us that, because she doesn’t actually know what the presents are. So she’s making an educated guess and maybe when he comes, I can impress him.”

 

“And maybe Agent 22 will…” Webby trailed off. It was unlikely that Agent 22 would make a guest appearance. Darkwing Duck was far more likely. Gosalyn squeezed her shoulder.

 

“Weren’t you the one saying we’ll get adopted?” Gosalyn said. “Have faith, right? And all that? It’s the holidays.”

 

“You’re just pumped up at the idea of Darkwing being here,” she accused.

 

Gosalyn flashed her a grin. “Could you tell?”

 

Webby rolled her eyes at her. “Lead on, Quiverwing.”

 

“As you wish, Agent 22 and a half.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Webby discovers something unsettling at McDuck Manor and Gosalyn encounters Negaduck for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh...we found Lena! I think it might’ve been better for Webby’s state of mind if they hadn’t, though…oops.
> 
> Is Webby going to be working to help her? Not sure. I still need to bring the villains back into this. Sorry, this update isn’t that long (about 3k words). I ran out of steam and wanted to post something.

 

It was easy to get lost in the manor, especially when she had no reference points. Along with Huey, Webby was attempting to map out the place. She’d discovered that the red-clad triplet was fastidious when it came to organization and planning. Not knowing where things were bothered him; Dewey found exploration an adventure and Louie mostly sat in front of the TV. As a result, Webby had set out with Dewey and Huey, with Dewey offering commentary about the cool things he’d seen around the house. It made Webby giddy, that this whole place was hers to peruse, although she wasn’t an heir the way the triplets were.

 

“...and that’s the  _ other  _ bin of Scrooge McDuck,” Huey said.

 

“Yeah, we’re not allowed in there,” Dewey added. 

 

Louie walked up eating popcorn and offered Webby a piece. She took it and, with his other hand, he raised a Pep to his beak to sip. “Legend has it his really rare artifacts are in there.”

 

“I thought you were watching Ottoman Empire,” Huey said conversationally.

 

“Eh, I got bored,” he said with a shrug. “Plus, it’s all repeats until February.”

 

“I wonder what’s in there…” Dewey said and gave Webby an impish grin. “Wanna find out?”

 

“Uncle Scrooge was pretty explicit about us not going in there,” Huey protested. “If he doesn’t want us in there, he must have a pretty good reason.”

 

“How dangerous could it be?” Dewey scoffed. “If it were really dangerous, he wouldn’t keep it in the house at all.”

 

“Yeah, but there’s a difference between what’s dangerous for kids and what’s dangerous for adults,” Huey argued. 

 

“Exactly,” Louie said. He hadn’t been following the argument, but he seemed to agree with the spirit of Dewey’s case. “We’re mature. We can handle it. Let’s go in.”

 

“I...I don’t know…” Webby said. She gnawed the inside of her beak. Gosalyn would’ve been all for it and Webby would’ve been, predictably, the one dragging her heels. The thought of her missing sister made her heart ache and she changed her mind. Sure, Gosalyn had had a lot of bad ideas, but adventuring was a lot more fun than simply sitting around twiddling your thumbs and reading books, waiting for something to happen to you. Better to happen to it instead.

 

“How often are you going to get an opportunity like this?” Louie argued. “Uncle Donald’s locked in the pantry, Uncle Scrooge is out for a business opportunity, and Mrs. B is off somewhere vacuuming or whatever it is she does as a housekeeper.”

 

It was hard for Webby sometimes to reconcile that her foster grandmother had worked as a spy and was now moonlighting as a housekeeper. The two seemed diametrically opposed, considering how prestigious SHUSH made spy work look. Then again, real spies had been covert, placed in strategic positions to overhear things and pull the strings from the inside. Those types of spies had never come to the orphanage.

 

“Uncle Scrooge wants us to be on our best behavior,” Huey shot back. “What kind of example are we giving Webby?”

 

“She’s older than we are,” Louie scoffed.

 

“By a year,” Webby agreed, but she’d stopped listening. Instead, she followed Dewey as they crept closer to the bin. She pushed open the door to find that the bin itself consisted of a large warehouse, its entrance behind a locked door that she surmised was there. All she could see was a painting of Scrooge McDuck.

 

Dewey began searching the area and she paid attention to anything that didn’t quite seem to fit. Her eyes snagged on the painting and, distantly, she heard Huey and Louie continue to debate. They hadn’t noticed that Dewey and Webby had gone on without them.

 

Once Webby had secured the door and opened it, she and Dewey slipped away. She pulled the door shut behind her and Dewey rushed off. Rather than accidentally stumble upon something unpleasant, she scrutinized the numbering system. Did it mean anything? Or was it completely random?

 

“Hey, Webby?” Dewey said. He’d flung caution to the winds and had opened a door at random.

 

Webby poked her head in over Dewey’s arm and her heart clenched. Frozen in time, a figure locked in a magical barrier, a young girl stared back at them. She had a pink streak in her hair and Webby’s beak quivered. The girl had her hand extended toward them as if begging for their hope. A shadow at her back shifted back and forth and hissed at their intrusion. 

 

“Wait, there’s something here,” Dewey said, plucking a small card off a table near the girl. Webby inched into the room with trepidation, her heart in her throat. She could feel her heart pounding and she latched onto Dewey as a solid, living, breathing figure in here. The girl’s expression was woebegone and pierced Webby.

 

“In order to prevent Magica de Spell from enslaving Duckburg and enacting vengeance for being trapped in me lucky dime, I sealed her and her shadow in a magical barrier made of Magica’s own spell,” Dewey read. “I have not yet figured out how to separate Lena from Magica.”

 

The girl’s eyes were moving. Webby jumped back.

 

“She’s alive in there!” Webby cried, dismayed. “We have to break her out!”

 

“I don’t see how…” Dewey pointed out. “If we do, we’ll break Magica out too.”

 

“Who  _ is  _ Magica de Spell?” she asked. Though the girl’s gaze followed them, nothing else of her moved. Well, no, wait, that wasn’t quite true. Her chest rose and fell very slowly, almost as if she were out of sync with them, in her own timestream. What if she weren’t frozen so much as locked into another time dimension?

 

“Beats me,” Dewey said. They couldn’t approach Lena; the barrier surrounded her and her shadow (though technically it was the other way around, wasn’t it?) Webby’s heart wrenched. She didn’t want to leave the girl here. 

 

“How...how long do you think she’s been here?” Dewey asked quietly, horrified. 

 

“Fifteen years,” Huey said and the two whirled to discover Louie and Huey had finally joined them. He pointed to the bottom of Dewey’s card. “Scrooge and Magica fought on Mount Vesuvius fifteen years ago. When he found out that their fight had brought about Lena, he locked her in a temporal slowdown. She’s moving, but it’s glacial compared to us.”

 

“He can’t keep her in here forever!” Webby exclaimed, likewise unnerved.

 

“Until Uncle Scrooge figures out a way to separate them, I don’t think he has a choice,” Huey said.

 

“It’s not her fault that she’s like this,” Webby argued.

 

“I’m not saying it is,” Huey said. He was studying Lena, who was, in turn, studying them, although it was hard to tell since she barely moved. 

 

“That’s rough,” Louie said. “Imagine being stuck like that for fifteen years.”

 

“See, this is probably why Uncle Scrooge doesn’t want us in here,” Huey argued. 

 

“We’ll come back for you,” Webby promised and Lena’s gaze slid, very slowly, back to her. She appeared to be mouthing ‘help’, but it was taking forever for her beak to form the word. Webby laid her hand against the barrier. It felt like smooth ice beneath her fingers. 

 

“How long do you think it feels like to her?” Webby whispered as they backed out. She hated to leave Lena alone in there, her gaze still haunted Webby, but they could do nothing for the shadow girl at the moment. Webby glanced back at the closed door and felt wretched.

 

“Hopefully not that long,” Dewey murmured and the others nodded their agreement. Webby rolled the friendship bracelet she’d created with Gosalyn around her wrist. 

 

Discovering Lena had put a damper on the occasion. Webby wasn’t sure what other horrors awaited them and she wasn’t sure she wanted to find out. The boys proceeded away from the door, which Webby cast one last, longing gaze at, and then selected another door. She was half afraid to see what was in front of them.

 

It was a dreamcatcher. It floated in midair and seemed oddly ominous, or perhaps that was just her impression after having encountered Scrooge’s worst enemy trapped within a magical force field.

 

“I kinda get Magica being trapped, but what’s up with the dreamcatcher?” Dewey asked, baffled.

 

“It’s gotta be magic,” Louie said. 

 

“We should leave it alone,” Huey decided firmly. “Who knows what might happen?”

 

Webby stepped forward, half wondering whether the dreamcatcher had a clue as to how to free Lena. The air rippled about her and the boys yanked her back as her eyelids grew heavy. Without a word, they rushed away down the hall. 

 

They didn’t stop until they reached the main manor again. Webby’s heart thudded and she realized now why she hadn’t seen any books about magic in the library. Scrooge probably kept them hidden within the other bin to prevent anyone from summoning anything or using magic that was forbidden. But...she was haunted by what she’d already seen. It was impossible to put it from her mind.

 

Her cell phone was ringing. A couple days ago, Mrs. Beakley had sprung for one for her and she’d promptly given Gosalyn the number. Either thankfully or unthankfully, Gosalyn’s story put Lena temporarily out of Webby’s mind. When it came to surprises, Gosalyn was quite good at that. It was one of the reasons their headmistress had found her so taxing.

 

* * *

 

 

“Keen gear!” Gosalyn exclaimed. She’d flipped a bust on a table beside a couple chairs in Drake Mallard’s living room and ended up in Darkwing Duck’s secret lair. Excited, she bounced up and down on the balls of her heels. Behind her, Honker was studying the place and muttering things she ignored, mostly about how she shouldn’t be here in the first place.

 

She  _ knew  _ she shouldn’t be here. That was the whole point. That was what made this so exciting. There were so many different gadgets and devices she could play with. Plus, Darkwing had a super computer she was itching to get her hands on. No, she probably shouldn’t be here. In fact, if she remembered correctly, she had been forbidden from coming here without Darkwing. But what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, right? Right.

 

“Why don’t we take this baby out for a spin?” Gosalyn asked, heading for the motorcycle.

 

“Aren’t you a little too young to drive?” Honker protested. 

 

“Pfft. I’ll just tell them I got my learner’s permit,” she said and, at his skeptical look, added, “I’m a fast learner?”

 

“You have to be sixteen to get your permit,” he argued.

 

“And my feet probably won’t reach the pedals,” she said, but she flung herself into the driver’s seat anyway. Sighing, perhaps realizing that it was his fate in life to be dragged along by Gosalyn Mallard, Honker sat in the sidecar. Gosalyn hit a few buttons at random to see what would happen and they raced out of the lair and onto the bridge.

 

“Shouldn’t we be wearing safety equipment? Goggles? A helmet?” Honker asked, his voice difficult to hear over the wind blowing and making her hair fly this way and that.

 

“Probably,” she agreed, deciding not to worry about it unless she went flying over the handlebars. She  _ could  _ reach the pedals, just barely, and driving a motorcycle was a lot harder than riding a bike. For one thing, the weight distribution was different and she was afraid, if she leaned into a turn, she’d flip them both over. The sidecar helped in that regard, as it offered a counterbalance, but it wasn’t optimal by any means.

 

“Gosalyn!” Honker protested. “I really think you ought to…”

 

He trailed off as they came to a sudden stop. Proud of herself for managing to halt their egress, she almost missed why she’d stopped in the first place. A group of ne’er do wells were robbing St. Canard’s First Bank. Could she stop them? Well, maybe if she’d been trained by SHUSH...she’d been pre-trained, if that made sense, but she hadn’t received their actual regimen. 

 

Honker yanked her back behind the building before she had a chance to question whether she ought to make her superheroine debut. 

 

“You can’t possibly tangle with them,” he hissed. “They’re four of them versus one of you  _ and  _ they’re all adults.”

 

She poked her head back over the wall. What held her attention was not that there was a plant duck, a dog composed of water, a trickster duck, and a mole with electric powers, but the fifth member of the group. Other than his coloration, he looked exactly like Darkwing Duck. She froze.

 

“That’s Negaduck,” Honker muttered next to her. “You don’t want to mess with him.”

 

She’d grown up in St. Canard, but her exposure to supervillains had been limited. Plus, Negaduck had only started coming around recently, within the last few months. The pictures she’d seen had been in black and white and hadn’t done him justice. When he smiled, his mouth was full of sharp, pointy teeth. She’d never seen anything like that, either. 

 

Before she knew what she was doing, she rushed out from behind the wall and Honker groaned. She ignored him. Negaduck’s gaze was on their getaway car, but, for a second, it strayed along the street to determine whether there were any witnesses. It snagged on her and then, figuring that Gosalyn posed little to no threat, he shrugged and threw himself behind the driver’s seat. He barely waited for the other four to pile in before speeding off.

 

“I told you not to interfere!” Honker hissed.

 

“He barely knows I’m alive,” she scoffed, brushing off his concern. “Does Darkwing have an evil twin?”

 

“I...I guess…” Honker said. “I’m not too sure about that either, to tell you the truth.”

 

“The way he looked at me, it was like he recognized me but didn’t care,” Gosalyn said, frowning. “It was weird.”

 

“Look, it’s probably a good idea to leave him alone. He’s your dad’s problem now, not yours.”

 

Gosalyn’s gaze snagged onto the Ratcatcher. She hadn’t known it had a kickstand and it had fallen over. A large scratch went from the sidecar along the side of the vehicle. Gosalyn grinned sheepishly.

 

“Think he’ll notice I borrowed his wheels?” she asked innocently.

 

“Oh, I think so,” a familiar voice said behind them and she whirled, discovering Darkwing Duck at her back. The Thunderquack was parked on the street and blocking traffic. Gosalyn’s sheepish grin grew and she blushed.

 

“I was only borrowing it for a few minutes?” Gosalyn suggested.

 

“And you already dinged the Ratcatcher and scratched the paint!” Darkwing raged. “Didn’t I tell you to stay home, young lady?”

 

“Yeah, but it sounded more like a suggestion…” She offered him her most winsome smile. He didn’t fall for it.

 

“If you’re going to stumble upon crime scenes, you’re going to need to be trained,” he said and then sighed as he realized the getaway car was long gone. “And quit stealing my stuff. Do you know how long it took for me to put the Ratcatcher back together the last time I dinged it?”

 

He was whining when he said this. “Launchpad took forever to fix the paint job, too.”

 

“Launchpad?” she repeated.

 

“My sidekick,” he said. “Er, well, he’s new. He’s less my sidekick and more a guy I hired as a mechanic who won’t leave my house. He’s supposed to work for Scrooge McDuck.”

 

“You mean where Webby’s staying?” Gosalyn asked, her interest piqued.

 

“You mean your friend from the orphanage? Yeah,” he said. He propped the Ratcatcher back up and although he looked annoyed, she guessed she wasn’t in serious trouble. After all, she had experience telling when adults considered her in deep trouble. To her, this was more like “stop doing this” rather than “you are grounded forever and eternity”. 

 

His gaze strayed to Honker.

 

“Do your parents know you’re out here?” he asked.

 

“My parents think I’m safe at home with Gosalyn,” he answered.

 

Darkwing frowned. Gosalyn hadn’t realized that by now, Honker must’ve put two and two together and realized that Drake Mallard was Darkwing Duck. So much for secret identities. Oops. Judging by the expression on Darkwing’s face, he had come to the same conclusion. His eyes flashed at Gosalyn.

 

“Anyone  _ else  _ you want to tell my secret identity to?” he asked, testy.

 

“Webby--” she started.

 

“Webby doesn’t count,” he said, waving it aside. “If she’s part of SHUSH, she’s bound to find out. I meant anyone who  _ isn’t  _ a secret agent.”

 

“You’re a secret agent?” Honker asked.

 

“Not so secret now,” Gosalyn said, snorting. 

 

“All right, come on, come on,” he said. “You two can ride in the Thunderquack while I see if I can pick up Negaduck’s trail.”

 

“ _ Is  _ he, like, your evil twin?” she asked, unable to help herself.

 

“You know, I’m not really sure,” he said. “But he’s nowhere near as handsome or as smart as me.”

 

“Just as arrogant, though,” Honker muttered.

 

“I heard that!” Darkwing objected. “Just for that, you get to hold the hamburger bag when we stop at Hamburger Hippos.”

 

Gosalyn called Webby while she was in the Thunderquack and filled her in. Darkwing only corrected her a couple times--he was more focused on figuring out where the villains had fled to. The problem was that their trail had gone cold.

 

“Hamburgers?” Launchpad asked and Gosalyn startled, having forgotten that they had had a pilot in the first place. She’d been so absorbed in her phone call.

 

“Is that Launchpad?” Webby asked. “Mr. McDuck has a message for him. He said to come back or he’ll find someone else.”

 

“But Darkwing Duck’s my hero!” Launchpad protested, overhearing this. “How can I abandon him in his time of need?”

 

“Really? You’re going with that?” Darkwing said and then sighed. “Oh, well. Can’t help what the fans want.”

 

“Or ‘fan’, singular,” Gosalyn muttered.

 

“Maybe now isn’t the best time to talk,” Webby demurred. 

 

“I’ll call you back later, okay?” Gosalyn promised. 

 

“Okay.”

 

It might’ve been Gosalyn’s imagination, but Webby seemed preoccupied. She wished she could have asked more, but Darkwing had swooped down on a likely building. Too excited to worry about that for the time being, she bounced in her seat. This was just like one of those crime shows. Or the original Darkwing Duck series. 

  
  



	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Doofus Drake realizes he's bitten off more than he can swallow, Dewey and Launchpad end up imperiled, and Gosalyn has a brief bonding moment with Darkwing Duck before realizing that Webby might be in danger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay in writing this. I’ve been procrastinating. For some reason, although I love writing Darkwing Duck, I’m awful when it comes to updating it in a timely manner. Go fig.
> 
> Lyrics from Kamelot's "Feast for the Vain".

Anything that transpired within McDuck Manor was kept hush-hush, which was probably for the best for their privacy, but exceedingly frustrating for anyone outside of the manor. Doofus Drake stood outside and knew he’d never be permitted admittance. He had a theory, but he couldn’t prove it. Hissing through his clenched beak, he glowered at the security camera above him. The Duck family was in there, along with Scrooge McDuck’s heirs. Louie Duck was there and it was galling that he couldn’t enact his revenge directly upon him and the girl. But he couldn’t prove the girl was there. He cursed.  
  
Kicking the gate, he stormed off. Taurus Bulba was waiting for him in St. Canard at the Hamburger Hippo; the fast-food chain was ubiquitous there, so he’d needed to clarify where in town. It was by the Audubon Bay Bridge, in between the two cities. He knew that the criminal mastermind hated waiting, which meant it behooved Doofus to get back in the limo and speed off. However, he couldn’t bring himself to, not yet. Not when he was so close.  
  
He cast a hungry look inside, through the gates, at the manor, before stepping back. He’d pressed the intercom button on the off chance someone might admit him anyway, but no one had responded. Either the security room was empty or, more likely, someone had recognized him and refused to entertain him. They’d pay for that. Clenching his fists, he spun on his heel and, flinging the limo door open, threw himself on the backseat.  
  
The driver chose not to interact with him, which was fine. Fuming, he folded his arms across his chest and didn’t bother buckling his seatbelt. Then, after a minute, he begrudgingly buckled it, just in case the driver was as incompetent as Scrooge McDuck’s legendary driver, Launchpad McQuack. The seatbelt was tight and irritated him, much like everything else did lately. He hadn’t been the same since his defeat at the hands of Gosalyn Waddlemeyer and Webbigail Vanderquack.  
  
It was humiliating, that two girls from no particular background had destroyed him. Two orphans. They approached the bridge and he glanced at his cell phone. Before Louie Duck had escaped him, he’d taken pictures of the two of them together. He noticed now how unsettled the green-clad duck had looked and his eyes narrowed. Louie ought to know better than to leave him when Doofus claimed everything he looked at. It reminded him of a song.  
  
 _“And my friend declares...everything I look at could be mine.”_  
  
All he’d offered him was friendship and Louie had spurned him. He hadn’t appreciated the gifts he’d proffered him. He was ungrateful and for that, he’d pay.  
  
Doofus would keep him from fleeing, him and his brother Huey. They’d belong to him and, when he grew weary of them, he’d break them, like everything else he owned. It might be fun to break someone again. His parents were too far gone to provide much amusement anymore. They mostly cowered in fear.  
  
They arrived at the Hamburger Hippo one minute late and Taurus Bulba’s nostrils flared. The limo drove around the corner so as to be unnoticeable. The criminal mastermind’s gaze narrowed as he beheld Doofus Drake.  
  
“You’re late.”  
  
“By a minute.”  
  
“Late is still late, small fat child, and I have precious little time to leave my prison and then re-enter it. You had better not be wasting my time.”  
  
“I have a hunch as to where Webbigail is,” Doofus informed him and Bulba snorted.  
  
“Old news. She is not the one I am interested in. Have you figured out where Darkwing Duck has gone? Or what has happened to Gosalyn Waddlemeyer?”  
  
Doofus scowled, not appreciating that Taurus didn’t applaud his hard work. Of course, he couldn’t reprimand him. To be quite honest, he was a little intimidated by him. The bull looked like he could snap him in half and then render what was left limb from limb. His loathing for children was legendary. It might be wise to stop back-talking him.  
  
“Darkwing Duck took Gosalyn,” Doofus said. “But I haven’t been able to figure out his secret identity.”  
  
“Then why did you call this meeting?” Taurus roared. “You are wasting my time! You have vast resources at your disposal and you cannot locate two little girls?!”  
  
“One of them is in McDuck Manor. Gosalyn is somewhere in St. Canard.”  
  
“Somewhere is not good enough,” he said, low and menacing. There was a threat implicit in his tone and Doofus shuddered. His mouth had gone dry.  
  
“I, uh, I’ve narrowed it down to the suburbs of St. Canard,” Doofus ventured. “That’s about as close as I could get. But I did find out that Scrooge McDuck’s personal driver is pulling double-duty with Darkwing Duck.”  
  
Bulba’s eyes gleamed. “That is worthwhile evidence. We will waylay him and drag the truth of Darkwing Duck’s secret identity and Gosalyn’s whereabouts from him.”  
  
“When you say ‘we’...?”  
  
“Not you, obviously,” he sneered, condescending. “You are more likely to waylay a buffet table than an adult man. I will do it. I won’t kill him, not unless I have to. Killing is messy and leads to awkward questions. Besides, the police remain suspicious of how I disposed of Professor Waddlemeyer’s body.”  
  
The bottom dropped out of Doofus’s stomach. This man had killed Gosalyn’s grandfather. He forced the vulnerability away. He sensed that displaying it now would leave him wide open. This was a man who did not tolerate weakness in any form.  
  
“Of course, killing him would bring Darkwing Duck out of hiding too if he cares for his new pilot. It will also bring Scrooge McDuck down upon my head, which is less desirable.”  
  
Yes, but Scrooge McDuck might lead to Louie and Huey Duck. It might, but Scrooge would probably be overprotective as a result of an “accident” befalling Launchpad. He’d be less likely to see his targets if Launchpad perished, not more. They had to toe a line.  
  
“So we don’t kill him.”  
  
“Not unless he tests my patience or it proves necessary.”  
  
“Under what circumstances would it prove necessary?” Doofus asked, suddenly aware that he was alone, with a homicidal criminal, while the only people who might have helped were either in the back cooking burgers or waiting at his limo. He felt rather isolated, which only notched up his vulnerability. Taurus Bulba would think nothing of killing him if he stood in the way of what he wanted. Right now, their interests were aligned. That would not last forever.  
  
“That is for me to determine, not you. But luring Launchpad out is a sound plan. We will start there and torture him until he divulges the information we need. He is too stupid to force into bringing out our prey, but he may yield information on how to access McDuck Manor and Darkwing Duck’s lair. If not, eh. He will be easy to break, regardless.”  
  
Pushing aside his uneaten food, Taurus Bulba rose to his feet. “This has been a productive meeting. I thank you. But do not call again unless it is something important.”  
  
But...Bulba had contacted him, not the other way around. It was on the tip of his tongue to say that, though the older man’s face warned him to keep his beak shut. Reluctantly, trembling, Doofus nodded. Bulba snorted, striding away. Doofus glanced at his own burger, barely touched. The little he’d eaten settled hard in his stomach, like a rock, and he decided that he’d be better off eating in the house. After all, the cuisine here was for the common folk. (That’s what he told himself, anyway).  
  
Once Bulba was gone, Doofus allowed himself to feel the terror that had snuck up on him. The limo driver returned and he sat in the backseat without feeling touchy anymore, just apprehensive. He wanted revenge against the girls, yes, and against Huey and Louie. But he didn’t know Launchpad. And the callous way Bulba had described killing him had made him wonder whether he, too, might be expendable.  
  
They took the long way back to the estate and Doofus glanced once more upon McDuck Manor. He had no idea what was transpiring behind those walls and it grated, though the irritation paled in comparison to his alarm over Bulba’s methods. What did Bulba propose to do, anyway? Kidnap Launchpad while he was waiting for Scrooge and his entourage? Well, it wasn’t like Scrooge walked around with a bodyguard. No one was going to stop him if he decided he’d nab Launchpad. An old man with a cane and a bunch of kids? Yeah, that’d really deter him.  
  
The whole thing was giving him anxiety and when he was anxious, he ate. He opened up a hidden compartment in the door and produced gummy peach rings, which were his favorite. Tearing open the bag, he took a handful and tossed it down his gullet. He barely tasted them and what he did taste made him want to eat more.  
  
They arrived at the estate and he put the bag away. If he didn’t stop himself, he knew he’d eat the whole bag. Pulling out his phone, he glanced once more at the picture of himself and Louie. It left him cold. While he had no intention of pulling out of his arrangement with Bulba, he needed a few minutes to regain his composure. Thankfully, his parents knew by now to leave him alone when he was in a bad mood. Unfortunately for them, he was frequently in a bad mood.  
  
It occurred to him that Taurus Bulba might not be the safest person to be around, but Doofus couldn’t hire a bodyguard. That would say that he didn’t trust him and Doofus had an unsettling vision of what happened to people Bulba distrusted. It involved weights and deep water.  
  
Still, things were progressing, even if they weren’t necessarily going exactly as he wanted. Launchpad was the key and the weakest link between Darkwing Duck and Scrooge McDuck. Moreover, it was well known that Mrs. Beakley worked with Scrooge McDuck. Once they got to Launchpad, they were in.  
  


* * *

  
  
Webby couldn’t focus on her training guide. She kept seeing Lena reaching out toward them and mouthing “help”. Why hadn’t Scrooge figured out a way to free her after fifteen years? It was cruel to think that a girl almost their age had been tethered to Scrooge’s greatest foe for fifteen long years, kept in stasis and desperate for freedom. Gosalyn would have wanted to break her out. Webby needed to talk to her sister. More than that, she needed to see her face to face.  
  
Launchpad was back from St. Canard and in the garage/his living quarters, where there were fast food wrappers everywhere and what she sincerely hoped were straw wrappers and not something less kid-friendly. The pad had a stale odor overhanging it and she wrinkled her beak. Launchpad needed someone to clean up after him and she sensed her grandmother had put her foot down on that. Webby shook her head, attempting to clear it.  
  
Launchpad was watching an old Darkwing Duck episode; it was so weird for her to see Darkwing Duck in action when she knew he was real too. The old Darkwing Duck series involved Darkwing’s father, who had passed the mantle on his son. At that point, the show had become real and the villains branched out, deciding they no longer wanted to be actors but were “destined for greatness”. The battle had raged on ever since.  
  
Beside him was Dewey, who was eating a hamburger. His face brightened when he saw her and he patted the couch next to him. Webby eyed the couch; it was broken and the springs were protruding in places. For someone who was employed by the richest duck in the world, he certainly didn’t give Launchpad a lot of money to fix up his place. She didn’t know why she was surprised.  
  
“What’s up?” Dewey asked.  
  
“I can’t get Lena out of my head,” Webby said. “We should do something about her.”  
  
Dewey shrugged. “What can we do? We don’t know magic and if Uncle Scrooge hasn’t figured out a way to free her in the last fifteen years, how can we?”  
  
Webby put her hands on her hips. “You’re not giving up so easily, are you? I know my sister’s foster father’s girlfriend is Morgana Macawber. So we have an in there.”  
  
Dewey sat up, suddenly interested. “You wanna go to St. Canard?”  
  
She nodded and glanced at Launchpad.  
  
“Hey, do you think we could swing by St. Canard?” Dewey asked with an innocent look. “We could get Hamburger Hippo.”  
  
“It’s been a while since I’ve had one of those...about a day or so…” Launchpad mused. “You don’t think Mr. McDee needs me for anything, do you?”  
  
Dewey scoffed. “Him? He’s locked in his office counting money or something. C’mon. It’ll be fun.”  
  
“If he doesn’t need me, then…” Launchpad shrugged. “Let’s go.”  
  
“Just like that?” Webby asked, startled at how easy it was.  
  
“Yep,” Dewey said. “Launchpad’s my best friend and I’m his.”  
  
Somehow, Webby found this unusual, that a grown man would consider a twelve-year-old child his best friend. Launchpad didn’t scream “stranger danger”, but he did scream “man-child” alarmingly loud. She kicked at the straw wrappers and cringed.  
  
They piled into the limo and Launchpad almost backed into the garage door. Webby shot Dewey a look as if to say “this is your best friend?”  
  
“He’s, uh, he just got his license, so he’s a little new at this,” Dewey explained. “He’s been Uncle Scrooge’s driver for as long as we’ve been alive, but he only got his license six months ago.”  
  
“...he what?” she stared, dumbfounded.  
  
“Right, gotta roll up the garage door before starting. Forgot that,” Launchpad said and Webby groaned, facepalming. They peeled out of the driveway, down the long road, opened the gates, and headed off toward St. Canard. As they did so, Webby spotted a strange red bird with flashing eyes tailing them. She frowned, wondering whether she ought to say anything about it. It struck her as wrong, much more so than Launchpad and Dewey being besties.  
  
“Maybe we can swing by Darkwing Duck’s lair and I can show you guys around,” Launchpad suggested.  
  
“Isn’t it supposed to be secret?” Dewey asked.  
  
“Yeah, but, you guys can keep a secret, right?”  
  
As Launchpad accelerated into traffic, that red-winged bird pursued them. Webby’s heart was in her throat. Maybe it was being raised in an orphanage in preparation for working with SHUSH or maybe it was paranoia, but the further they went from the manor and the longer that bird followed them, the graver her concerns grew.  
  
“Launchpad--” she started but didn’t finish. They hit a bump, one Webby could have sworn wasn’t there a second ago, and the limo went flying. Black dust obliterated their view and when the limo slammed back down, the driver’s side door was wrenched open from the outside.  
  
“Launchpad!” Dewey exclaimed, lunging for his jacket but coming up empty. He tugged at the doors, but, unlike the front doors, these were locked. Flinging himself over the front seat, he reached for the driver door and a large, bullish looking fist punched him hard in the face. Webby gasped, springing to Dewey’s defense and leaping through the divider.  
  
“You’re not the one I want,” a voice hissed, one that Webby didn’t recognize but, unbeknownst to her, decorated Gosalyn’s nightmares. “But you could still be useful…”  
  
The enormous hand snagged Dewey’s shirt and Webby wrapped her arms about his waist to hold him in place. Around them, though she couldn’t see anything due to the dust cloud, she heard faint honking. Launchpad must’ve blocked an intersection. Launchpad and whoever this was.  
  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about…” Dewey said and blood coated his white feathers. “But--”  
  
A figure emerged and although Webby didn’t recognize him on sight, she recognized him by the description Gosalyn had given her. Taurus Bulba loomed over them and her heart hammered in her chest. He leered at the duo and she kicked at his chest to get him to release Dewey. It was like kicking a wall; her leg hurt and it did no real damage that she could see.  
  
“You are Webbigail Vanderquack, I believe?” Bulba said and Webby reached for mace she carried in her pocket. (After living in the orphanage, she’d learned to come prepared). Bulba grabbed her arm and wrenched it; she kicked him in the face to get him to release her and he snarled, flinging her into the window. She bounced back; her arm ached, as did her shoulder, but neither was broken nor dislocated. That was the important thing.  
  
Dewey was looking for something he could use as a weapon, but of course, Launchpad didn’t keep weapons in the limo. Webby, too, realized that she had no options now that the mace was out of reach. She looked at the glovebox and the passenger door opened, revealing a goat henchman with a scar on his face. He grabbed her from behind and she kicked him in between the eyes. He hissed, pulling out a switchblade, and she ignored Dewey calling her name.  
  
Sliding away from the switchblade, she ducked and rolled between his legs to end up in the dust cloud, which was dispersing. All she needed to do was evade her enemy, which she couldn’t see. This was far from optimal, but it might be the best she was going to get until the dust was gone.  
  
A leg swept her feet out from under and she rolled again, propelling herself as far as she could out of the cloud. A hand grabbed her hair and she spun about, biting it. The goon flung her away and finally, she fought her way clear of the dust. Gasping and choking, eyes watering, she staggered to a streetlamp.  
  
She didn’t have time for this. Dewey and Launchpad were in trouble. She willed herself to return, despite her aching body, and her knees buckled. Whatever was in that dust cloud had contained a lot of grit and worse, it was making her see double. She rubbed at her eyes.  
  
At once, the dust cloud cleared, which struck her as ominous. It lifted as it had never been and the limo was empty. Dewey and Launchpad were nowhere to be found and, aside from the limo at an angle in the intersection with the honking cars, there was no sign they might’ve been there at all.  
  
She might have saved herself, but now Dewey and Launchpad were in danger. She dashed inside the limo, heedless of the impatient motorists, and dialed the manor. Her foster grandmother answered on the second ring.  
  
“Hello?” Mrs. Beakley said.  
  
“Uh, hey. We have a situation here,” Webby said, feeling oddly embarrassed. “Dewey and Launchpad--they’re gone.”  
  
“Gone how?”  
  
“Taurus Bulba and his goons--I got away--but they didn’t--” she started and swallowed hard. It was hard to take deep breaths. Whatever was in that cloud felt like it’d lodged itself in her lungs.  
  
“Slow down, Webby,” Mrs. Beakley said. “Start from the beginning.”  
  


* * *

  
  
Gosalyn Mallard was playing a board game with Honker, the Muddlefoots, and her father, the lattermost unwillingly. Drake Mallard had to be roped into it and she could tell he detested the game as much as she did. Honker was torn since he had family loyalty, but at the same time, he hated it too. They might as well call it “bored” games because she was bored out of her skull.  
  
At long last, Tank, who had been roped into this too, flung down his cards in disgust and stormed off. Gosalyn took that as an indication that she ought to abandon the game and her father did too. Thankfully, they’d gone over to the Muddlefoots, which meant that once they left, they were free. Drake ignored Herb’s entreaties and Gosalyn scurried over to her new house.  
  
It occurred to her that Webby hadn’t told her much of herself in their last phone call. She tried calling her when they got home, but all she got was a busy signal. Frowning, confused, she wondered what to do with herself. This was still an unfamiliar house and though she’d taken her belongings with her, they were scant as suited an orphan.  
  
Drake settled in front of the TV to watch Ducktective, which appeared to be about a duck detective. Her father was half watching it, half paying attention to his phone. She sat beside him on the couch.  
  
“So. What’s it like being a superhero?” she asked with a grin. “Who patches you up after fights? Who’s your arch nemesis? Is it Negaduck? Is Negaduck, like, your evil twin?”  
  
“Gosalyn!” he yelped, having been taken by surprise by her sudden appearance. “I don’t think Negaduck is my evil twin, I patch myself up after fights, and I guess Negaduck is my arch nemesis, followed by Megavolt.”  
  
“What was the worst crime you ever had to foil?” she asked, leaning over the armchair and giving him an adoring look. She was super thrilled to have a crime fighter for a father and she intended to let him know it.  
  
Drake smiled, putting down his phone and muting the TV. “Let’s see. There was the time that Megavolt tried separating neutrons from positrons and accidentally created Negatron Darkwing. Then there was the time that Bushroot tried to turn his colleague into a plant creature like him...but it’s all in a day’s work for me. Yep, yep. I am amazing.”  
  
He puffed out his chest and she beamed at him.  
  
“You are,” she said. “So, when are you going to let me come along? You have to train me, right? Ooh, could I go up against Quackerjack? What about the Liquidator?”  
  
“I think they’re a little advanced for you, Gos…maybe you should start small, work up to them.”  
  
“But with you helping me, how could I lose?”  
  
He frowned, conflicted. She could tell that appealing to his ego was attractive, but, at the same time, he was worried about her. He didn’t want anything to happen to her, which was endearing on its own. It meant he cared about her, despite how little time they’d spent together. The last time someone had cared for her so much, it’d been her grandfather.  
  
“Wait...they’re interrupting the broadcast,” he said and un-muted the TV. A news reporter was on discussing the latest crime spree and breakout of a notorious criminal. Gosalyn yawned, thinking that this was insignificant. Then she heard the name.  
  
“Taurus Bulba was spotted in Duckburg today. On a possibly related note, Dewey Duck, Scrooge McDuck’s great-nephew, and Launchpad McQuack, Scrooge McDuck’s personal driver, have been declared missing. We certainly hope for their safe return...I’m Roxanne Featherly, reporting live from--”  
  
“Taurus Bulba?” Gosalyn squeaked. Her eyes were wide. “He...he kidnapped my grandfather. He killed…”  
  
She couldn’t bring herself to finish. Terror swept through her and she locked up, freezing in place. Webby lived in Duckburg now. What if Bulba had gone after her too? What if she wasn’t mentioned because she wasn’t considered important, not like a relative of Scrooge McDuck’s? Gosalyn’s stomach turned over and Webby not answering her phone took on a new, more ominous meaning.  
  
“Launchpad?” Drake said, startling her. “Why would they want LP?”  
  
“We have to go to Duckburg,” she pleaded. “Right now. I have to check on Webby.”  
  
“Hold on there, kiddo. We need to figure out what’s going on first. I need to talk to SHUSH.”  
  
“No time!” she exclaimed. “Let’s go!”  
  
“Gos, this could be very dangerous. I don’t want you involved.”  
  
“But Webby could be in trouble,” she protested. “Webby’s my sister. I have to go.”  
  
“How about this?” he proposed. “We’ll check on McDuck Manor and see if Webby’s there. If she isn’t, then I’ll go after her. By myself. You’re untrained and unprepared. I don’t want you getting hurt.”  
  
“I can’t abandon her.”  
  
He gave her a stern look. “You’ll be safe at McDuck Manor.”  
  
Gosalyn’s insides squirmed. On the one hand, he was right. She would be safe behind McDuck Manor’s gate and security system. Taurus Bulba had more than likely tortured her grandfather before killing him and the thought filled her with unrelenting horror. On the other hand, Webby was her sister. How could she leave her in Bulba’s hands, knowing what he was capable of? Gosalyn whimpered.  
  
“Hey,” Drake said and stroked her hair. “Hey. It’ll be okay. I promise. We’ll get to the bottom of this.”  
  
She nodded, feeling like a puppet on a string. Try as she might, she couldn’t quite believe him.


	6. Chapter 6

Webby, likewise, was stymied by well-meaning but nonetheless restrictive parenting. Mrs. Beakley didn’t want her haring off after Taurus Bulba and while she understood the practicality of that, her stomach churned. Dewey’s and Launchpad’s disappearances were her fault. If anything happened to them, she’d never forgive herself. And the sight of Taurus Bulba looming over her had terrified her, even if she wouldn’t say as much aloud. Gosalyn had confided in Webby that Bulba had killed her grandfather after torturing him to within an inch of his life.  
  
After she’d briefed Scrooge and her grandmother, she’d faced scrutiny from the remaining triplets. Louie was regarding her with suspicion now and she didn’t blame him. Dewey and Launchpad wouldn’t even have been in St. Canard if not for her. Well, okay, Dewey definitely wouldn’t have been in St. Canard. Launchpad was pulling double duty and might’ve been captured regardless.  
  
That didn’t ease her guilt. She’d created a board to help her figure out where Taurus Bulba might’ve gone, but there were too many unknown variables. Dewey had only wanted to help; he hadn’t deserved to be kidnapped. What if Bulba killed him too? But he wouldn’t, would he? To kill Dewey would be to risk invoking Scrooge McDuck’s fury and finding himself in very deep waters with sharks circling.  
  
There had been no ransom note or indication of what Bulba wanted, but Webby could guess. As the link between Scrooge McDuck and Darkwing Duck, Launchpad could know where Gosalyn was. Gosalyn might possess her grandfather’s knowledge of how to work the Ramrod. And once Bulba had that, Gosalyn might be disposable too.  
  
Gut churning, she dialed up Gosalyn and waited, worrying her sister wouldn’t answer.  
  
“Webby!” Gosalyn cried, answering on the first ring. Judging by the strain in her voice, she’d been worried too. She must’ve been sitting right next to the phone to answer so quickly.  
  
“Gosalyn, you’re okay?” Webby blurted.  
  
“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”  
  
“Launchpad and Dewey were kidnapped.”  
  
“I know. I saw the news. I thought you might’ve been kidnapped too. I wanted to run after you, but Dad’s being overprotective.” Webby could practically hear her sister roll her eyes.  
  
“If Bulba has them, it’s only a matter of time…” Webby said and knew she was growing hysterical. She pushed the tension out of her voice by extreme will, but Gosalyn knew her well enough to tell when she was anxious. There would be no fooling her.  
  
“We have to get to them,” Gosalyn agreed, though the nervousness in her voice gave her away too. Webby wished she were closer to her and could hug her. She also wished she could tell her that everything would be all right, but they both knew that was too much to hope for. When it came to a supervillain like Taurus Bulba, you never knew.  
  
“What I don’t get is how Bulba knew about Launchpad working for Darkwing Duck and Scrooge,” Webby said. “There’s nothing to tie him to Duckburg and St. Canard.”  
  
“Not unless he has a partner in Duckburg…” Gosalyn mused. Her tone was stiff as if by feigning nonchalance she might be able to pull this off without freaking out. Webby wished she could reach through the phone wires.  
  
“Who do we know who lives in Duckburg and has it out for both Scrooge McDuck and Darkwing Duck?” Webby asked. It was a rhetorical question; she didn’t expect her to have an answer.  
  
“Well, it’s not against Scrooge, but...Doofus Drake lives in Duckburg. And he has it out for both of us.”  
  
They both went quiet, processing this. It was possible Doofus had led Bulba to Launchpad and Dewey. If that was the case, then Bulba’s true target remained Gosalyn. It also meant that Doofus intended to punish Webby too, somehow, perhaps indirectly. Then again, for someone like that, indirectly probably wouldn’t be good enough. He’d have to get his hands on Webby and probably Gosalyn too if Bulba didn’t end up…  
  
No, she couldn’t think of that. The possibility of Gosalyn’s death was too awful to bear.  
  
“Then they have to be working together,” Webby said at last.  
  
“Bulba doesn’t like kids. Then again, he doesn’t like anyone and Doofus Drake is the richest kid in Duckburg, isn’t he?”  
  
“Yeah…”  
  
Seeing as the Duck triplets didn’t have access to their great-uncle’s fortune. That was likely to continue; Scrooge McDuck hadn’t become the richest duck in the world by giving handouts.  
  
“If Launchpad wasn’t an accident, then neither was Dewey. That means one of them has it in for the Duck triplets too.”  
  
“There’s something we’re missing here. There’s a link between Dewey and Doofus or between one of the triplets and Doofus that we don’t know about.”  
  
“You could try asking and call me back? I’m not going anywhere. Dad’s all worried I’ll run off into danger that he’s threatening to ground me. I haven’t even done anything wrong yet. It’s not like I knew he didn’t have a password on his phone and went poking through it.”  
  
“Uh huh.”  
  
“You believe me, don’t you?”  
  
“Not really.”  
  
Gosalyn blew her a raspberry and then sobered. “Seriously, Webs. If this has to do with us, then we have to step in and do something. We can’t let the adults intervene on our behalf. This is our fight, not theirs. I’m not standing by because it’s ‘safer’ to let Agent 22 and Darkwing run the show. Are you?”  
  
“No,” Webby vowed, knowing all the while how irate their respective foster families would be that she was striking out on her own against a homicidal maniac and a boy who had never been told ‘no’ in his life. The latter a child could handle. The former might require some careful footwork and handling. She had to hope that what little training she had meant she was up to the challenge.  
  
“Once I figure out a way to get past Fort Knox, a.k.a. Dad, I’ll call you back,” Gosalyn promised. “We’ll find a way to meet up and plan in person.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
“Love you.”  
  
“I love you too,” she said and, with misgivings, she hung up. When she glanced up from the phone, she spied Huey and Louie watching her. They shouldn’t have been able to sneak up on her. Clearly, she’d been too intent on her conversation to pay proper attention to her surroundings. She was ashamed of herself.  
  
“If you’re going after Dewey, we want in,” Huey said.  
  
“I thought you were mad at me,” Webby said.  
  
“We heard the conversation,” Louie said and showed her an Apple Airpod. “You can eavesdrop pretty easily on one of these babies through Bluetooth connections. Pretty big flaw in Apple’s design.”  
  
“It’s dangerous,” she protested.  
  
“I know,” Huey said quietly, agreeing. “But there’s no safe alternative, is there? Launchpad’s like family and Dewey is family. Plus, Gosalyn’s your family, so we can’t leave her in the lurch either.”  
  
“What about Mr. McDuck? And Mrs. Beakley?” she asked. Unlike Gosalyn, she hadn’t quite picked up the knack of calling her guardian by her preferred nickname. Perhaps courtesy was too deeply ingrained in Webby’s manners.  
  
“Huey’s the brains. I come up with the angles. We’ll figure something out,” Louie promised.  
  
“Gosalyn said she’d call me back when she had something planned out. But how are we going to get into St. Canard without Launchpad to drive us?” she asked.  
  
“We have bikes,” Huey said with a shrug. He frowned. “You’re going to have to ride a boy’s bike, though. We only have three and the third one is Dewey’s.”  
  
“I can ride a boy’s bike,” she said. She’d never done so in her life, but there was a first time for everything. Besides, she had no intention of disappointing them. No matter what happened, she would succeed. There was no room for failure.  
  
“In the meantime,” Huey suggested, “you’d better tell us everything you know about Doofus Drake and Taurus Bulba.”  
  
Louie grimaced. “I know Doofus Drake. So do you. I didn’t think that kid would show up again.”  
  
“He doesn’t seem like the type to forgive and forget,” Huey pointed out.  
  
“What happened between you two?” she asked.  
  
“Us three,” Louie said, his frown deepening. “I might’ve told him I was the richest kid in town after him, the sole heir to the McDuck fortune, and he tried to keep me as, like, a pet. Or a piece of property. I don’t know which. It was disturbing. Huey had to come to rescue me.”  
  
“He tried to keep you?” She was sure she’d misheard because that made no sense.  
  
“Yeah...I never said he wasn’t disturbed. Like, completely bat--”  
  
“Louie!” Huey scolded. “You know what Uncle Donald said about cursing.”  
  
“That it’s fine for him and not for us?” Louie huffed, folding his arms across his chest. “You should hear him when he crashes into something. I know he’s cursing, even if I can’t understand everything.”  
  
“That’s beside the point,” Huey said.  
  
“That’s entirely the point,” Louie huffed.  
  
“Uh, guys? Dewey and Launchpad?” she interrupted, hoping to get them back on track. “Not to mention Doofus Drake and Taurus Bulba.”  
  
“I’ve heard of Taurus Bulba, but I don’t know where,” Huey said, frowning.  
  
“He killed Gosalyn’s grandfather after torturing him to get information on how to operate the Ramrod. It didn’t work--he never divulged the secrets and he died for it. Now he wants Gosalyn so he can get the information out of her, probably through any means necessary…”  
  
She shuddered.  
  
“Okay, I know Doofus Drake is insane, but this seems a bit too far, even for him,” Louie said, shaking his head. “I mean, the guy’s clearly a psychopath.”  
  
“Money’s probably involved,” she said and ignored the pit that had settled in her stomach. “The Ramrod is a machine that turns things weightless, so that he could theoretically steal all the money he wanted, such as out of the Money Bin.”  
  
“Sounds like we should tell Uncle Scrooge about this,” Huey said.  
  
“No. What part of ‘we aren’t getting the grown-ups involved’ don’t you understand?” Louie hissed. “We’ll figure it out on our own. Right, Webby?”  
  
“Right,” she said and grimaced too. They could handle this. They could. She was sure about it. And to the little voice in her head that doubted, she tried to push it to the side, at least for now. Doubts had no place here.  
  
“I hope we don’t end up needing to protect Doofus from Bulba,” Louie said, grimacing. “He seems like the kind of guy who would off kids without a second thought. I mean, I’m all for comeuppance, but...that’s too extreme.”  
  
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” Huey said. “I still think we ought to involve Uncle Scrooge.”  
  
“We’ll be okay,” Webby said, hoping that by speaking it aloud, it’d make it true.  
  
“If you say so…” Huey said, but he sounded skeptical. She glowered at him. Just because they were kids didn’t mean they were helpless. And they had resources too. Gosalyn had access to Darkwing Duck’s cadre, after all. As for the rest, they’d play it by ear.  
  
She stared at the phone and hoped Gosalyn called back soon. She also hoped Darkwing Duck hadn’t eavesdropped on the conversation as easily as Louie and Huey had. Then again, adults were never quite as good around technology as kids.

* * *

  
  
Launchpad was unconscious and panting. Dewey didn’t know what Bulba had done to him, only that it had involved screaming and pleading. He couldn’t see the pilot from where he was, secured in another cell. It didn’t seem like Bulba intended to hurt him, only Launchpad, and the latter for the pure sadistic pleasure of it. He didn’t know what had happened to Webby, which made him fear the worst. Between his concern over Launchpad and then over Webby, not to mention the ominous screaming and crying in the distance, his stomach was in knots.  
  
Evidently, his uncle Scrooge had demanded a phone call to determine that Dewey was still alive and Taurus Bulba had obliged him for a minute before ripping the phone away again. Dewey, shackled and bound, felt like a criminal who had done nothing wrong. He couldn’t help but notice the blood soaking into Taurus Bulba’s cuffs and it turned his stomach further. He didn’t think that blood belonged to Bulba, which left only one option.  
  
“I will release the stupid pilot. He has told me everything I needed to know,” Taurus Bulba announced and then smirked at Dewey. “You, however, will make good leverage. You will ensure Webbigail Vanderquack will feel guilty and she will bring along Gosalyn Waddlemeyer. I will catch two birds with one stone.”  
  
He loomed over Dewey and then, casually, backhanded him through the bars. Dewey scrambled, falling onto his knees, and Taurus Bulba sneered.  
  
“Now, isn’t this the time where you say that ‘you’ll never get away with it’ or something equally pithy?”  
  
“You know my great-uncle is on your trail, right?” he said.  
  
“Yes, but I am more concerned with Webbigail Vanderquack and Gosalyn Waddlemeyer. They will bring me what I want and then when I finished with them, I believe Doofus Drake has some business. Then they can be disposed of.”  
  
While Dewey didn’t know Webby well (or Gosalyn at all), he was distressed both at how callous Taurus Bulba was and the idea of Webby dying. He jumped back to his feet and tried to look intimidating, which was difficult when he only came up to about Taurus Bulba’s waist. Nonetheless, he did his best and Taurus Bulba sneered.  
  
“You are not scary in the slightest,” he informed him. “However, as you are related to Scrooge McDuck, I cannot afford to kill you. Even I have prudence when it comes to certain matters.”  
  
Dewey wasn’t sure that was a good thing. After all, he could still hear Launchpad’s labored breathing.  
  
“You’re not going to kill Launchpad, are you?” he asked and hated how his voice trembled.  
  
“He has served his purpose. But, no, I won’t kill him. I will only take care of the loose ends that need trimming. And no one would miss a couple of orphans.”  
  
“Even if one of them is living with Scrooge McDuck?” Dewey challenged.  
  
“Am I to assume that the rich bastard has interest in Webbigail? Well, I suppose there’s a first time for everything. Eh, I’ll work that out later. Enjoy your stay, Dewford Duck. You aren’t getting out any time soon.”  
  
He waved at him and then sauntered out down the hall and away. Dewey tried calling after him, but he’d gone selectively deaf to his entreaties. He watched him until he opened the door and then passed beyond it. Huffing, Dewey sat on the rotted straw mattress and stared at the walls surrounding him. This really sucked.  
  
He didn’t even have his cell phone. That was one of the first things that Bulba had confiscated, just in case Dewey had any “bright ideas” about calling for help.  
  
“Launchpad?” he called.  
  
“...hey...Dewey…” Launchpad gasped and he wished he hadn’t called out to him. The man’s breathing was still labored and it made him shudder.  
  
“Launchpad, what did they do to you?”  
  
“Don’t worry about it. I’m fine. Gonna sleep it off. When I wake up, this’ll all be a bad dream and I’ll be ready to take Mr. McDee anywhere. Just...gotta sleep it off…”  
  
Dewey was afraid to correct him.  
  
“You didn’t tell him where Darkwing Duck is, did you?”  
  
“I don’t remember. You know, it’s weird. When you’re in my dreams, you’re usually not echoing down a dark tunnel. Huh. Are we sharing a dream?”  
  
“This isn’t--never mind. You told him, didn’t you?”  
  
“Like I said, I don’t remember anything. I kinda blacked out for a while, woke up in a lot of pain, and now I’m gonna go back to sleep. G’night, little man. What a strange dream this all is.”  
  
Within a minute, Launchpad’s snores echoed in the hallway and Dewey was completely alone. He didn’t like being alone, not unless he was doing Dewey Dew-Night. Even then, he’d imagined an audience. The last time he’d wanted to be alone, aside from his talk show, he’d sought solace because he’d missed his mom. He stared at the small barred window above him; he could smell raw sewage and the sea, which was a nauseating combination.  
  
He plucked at his bloodied feathers and groaned.  
  
“Hey, Dewey?” Launchpad called.  
  
“I thought you were sleeping.”  
  
“Kinda in too much pain to sleep. I’m not sure I’m dreaming.”  
  
This topic was making him acutely uncomfortable and he shifted uneasily on his cot. He didn’t know what to say to him. The whole situation was so far out of his depth he was floundering. He wasn’t even sure his brothers would know what to say and Louie was the smooth talker and Huey the smart one. Dewey was just...Dewey.  
  
“Hey, don’t stop talking to me!”  
  
“Sorry, sorry. I can’t really think of anything to say, though.”  
  
“I wonder if Mr. McDee is gonna dock my pay for taking the limo out without his permission and then getting kidnapped…”  
  
“He pays for all of your other crashes, doesn’t he?”  
  
“Yeah, but I shouldn’t have been out...I completely forgot. Have you seen Webby?”  
  
“No. You haven’t either, I’m guessing.”  
  
“Nope. I mean, I’m sure she’s okay.”  
  
Dewey hoped so; he hoped she wasn’t the “okay” that Launchpad seemed to be. Then again, he hadn’t heard her since he’d been brought here. If Bulba had had Webby, he would’ve been boasting about it. That meant wherever she was, she was safe. For now. Up until she and Gosalyn stormed the gates. He suppressed a groan.  
  
“I’m gonna have a hard time seeing out of my left eye. And my right eye. And walking. But I should be fine to drive. You don’t need to see where you’re going. You feel it in your gut.”  
  
“And that’s why you get into so many accidents…” Dewey muttered.  
  
“I shouldn’t have said anything about DW. He wouldn’t hurt Gosalyn, would he?”  
  
Again, he didn’t know how to answer that. Launchpad sounded on the brink of despair, which was unknown to Dewey and made him feel, if possible, even worse. Launchpad was usually pretty happy-go-lucky, no matter what befell him. For that to have changed was alarming.  
  
“No, of course not,” Dewey lied since he figured that was what Launchpad wanted to hear.  
  
  
“I’m gonna try sleeping again...see you in a couple hours, Dewey.”  
  
“See you…” he whispered back and hugged himself as best he was able, considering the manacles on his legs and the cuffs on his wrists. It was overkill; he didn’t need to be bound like this. There was no way he was escaping and everyone knew it. What was the point of restraints? Or was it to humiliate him?  
  
He didn’t know. There was way too much he didn’t know. And he feared for Webby and Gosalyn, because if they were coming into this without any clue of what was going on...they were in for it. Or worse. And it was the “or worse” that scared him the most.


	7. Chapter 7

Getting past Fort Knox, a.k.a. Dad, was harder than it sounded. For one thing, Drake Mallard had installed a security camera in her room, barred her windows, and had a home security system with a password she didn’t know. However, knowing how vain Darkwing Duck was, she thought she could puzzle that out and meet Webby. That was, once she figured out a way past the cameras. Darkwing had heard that Taurus Bulba was out and lurking. Bad news must travel fast.  
  
Darkwing wasn’t taking any chances. She knew his heart was in the right place, which was what made it so irritating. She couldn’t begrudge him wanting to protect her and she was touched by his concern. However, this was her problem and she needed to figure out how to solve it on her own.  
  
Perhaps she could head out when her father was otherwise occupied. He hadn’t barricaded her in her room and she crept downstairs. Her father was on the phone and she could almost hear the other end of the conversation. Her stomach twisted. He was talking to Scrooge McDuck.  
  
“I get it, I get it,” Darkwing huffed. “We’re not safe here. I have the best security system I could afford. And no, I couldn’t afford a DT-87.”  
  
Though she could tell it was Scrooge McDuck, she couldn’t hear his side. Whatever he’d said, her father hopped around.  
  
“Are you insinuating that I can’t protect my own daughter?” he snarled. “Uh huh, uh huh. I’m just saying that maybe--”  
  
Her father huffed some more and then glanced over at Gosalyn. She’d been lingering outside the kitchen while her father talked on the landline. Seriously, landline with a cord and everything. Was her father living in the 90s? Who had corded phones anymore?  
  
“Fine,” her father spat. “We’ll be right there.”  
  
He hung up, slamming the phone down in its cradle, and turned to her. “We’re headed to Duckburg. Scrooge McDuck doesn’t think I can protect you and he wants you with Webby so he can keep an eye on both of you.”  
  
While this was partially what she’d wanted, the idea of extra security was unappealing. She wanted to call Webby and tell her that the plans had changed, but she’d find out soon enough. Besides, maybe between the two of them, they could create a sufficient diversion to escape McDuck Manor and find Taurus Bulba themselves. Yes, that would work.  
  
Darkwing cast aside his irritation and knelt at her side. “Gos, I don’t want you going after Bulba. I’m serious. He’d kill you without hesitation.”  
  
“I’m not stupid, Dad,” she scoffed. “I promise I won’t go after Bulba.”  
  
Alone, she added silently.  
  
“And I don’t want you dragging Webby into this, either,” he chided. “Scrooge McDuck thinks Bulba might have...attacked Launchpad to get information on us.”  
  
Though this was what Gosalyn had figured, her stomach roiled and she pressed a hand against her bill to keep herself from vomiting. If Launchpad was injured, it was her fault. Taurus Bulba had wanted to get to her and Webby. She couldn’t let someone else take the blame or get hurt because of her. And...and if he wanted the Ramrod’s security code, he could damn well have it.  
  
Gosalyn cursed quietly.  
  
“Where did you learn that?” he huffed. “You shouldn’t be using that word.”  
  
“Some kids at school,” she said and offered him her most winsome smile. “So, we’re headed for McDuck Manor, then?”  
  
“Yes,” he said. “And the adults are going to go after him. You are going to stay there, where it’s safe.”  
  
Gosalyn withheld a scoff. Who did her father think he was fooling? Still, the thought of Taurus Bulba being up close and personal with him made her shudder and pimpled the flesh on her arms. She’d seen her grandfather before he’d perished and the image was seared into her mind. For a minute, she was a petrified child staring in horror at her guardian, the man who loved her, and what Taurus Bulba had done to him.  
  
“Gos, Gos!” Darkwing said and shook her gently. “That’s why I don’t want you leaving McDuck Manor. Promise me you’ll be safe. Promise me.”  
  
“I promise,” she whispered and he hugged her tightly. She hugged him back and swallowed past a lump in her throat. Didn’t he understand that she had to prevent anyone else from getting hurt?  
  
He stroked her hair and held her at arm’s length.  
  
“Okay,” he said. “I believe you.”  
  
He shouldn’t. Her stomach twisted, knowing she was lying to him but unable to stop herself. One way or another, this had to end. And the only way she knew for it to end was to intercede directly.  
  
“Let’s go,” he said. “Grab a few things--you might be there a few days.”  
  
Not if she could help it.  
  


* * *

  
  
Dewey lay on his rotten straw-stuffed mattress and listened to Launchpad’s labored breathing. Then he heard a key in a lock, followed by complaining, and the sounds of someone dragging a heavy object across the floor. He stood on his webbed tiptoes, but they were moving in the opposite direction. All he could see was the back of the goat’s head.  
  
“Hey!” he called. “Where are you taking him?”  
  
The goat turned around and sneered at him. “Don’t worry about it, kid.”  
  
“Where are you taking Launchpad?” Dewey demanded, fear making his heart race. He could barely breathe for terror that Taurus Bulba might go back on his word and kill Launchpad anyway. He clutched the bars tightly and the cold metal dug into his palms.  
  
“There’s for us to know and for you not to find out,” the goat retorted. “What’s it to you, kid?”  
  
“He’s my best friend,” Dewey said. “And he doesn’t deserve--”  
  
The goat spun about fully, bringing Launchpad with him. Dewey’s throat closed and he couldn’t speak. Launchpad’s eyes were both swollen shut; he had bruises all along his face and doubtless in other areas that Dewey couldn’t see beneath his clothes. It looked like Bulba had taken a knife to Launchpad’s cheek and hands. Dewey swayed, the urge to vomit nearly overpowering. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes.  
  
“Launchpad…” he squeaked.  
  
“That’s waiting for you, too, kid, or it would be if you weren’t Scrooge McDuck’s grand-nephew,” the goat scoffed. “You got lucky, but it won’t happen twice. We’re bringing Launchpad out to play in traffic.”  
  
He grinned cruelly. “Later, kid.”  
  
Hefting Launchpad, he proceeded to drag him down the hall further. A bloody trail followed the pilot as the goat carried him along. He had assistance along the way by a dog person and Dewey watched until they disappeared. He was shaking and whimpering. Swallowing past the lump in his throat, he crashed back onto the mattress. Tears streaked his cheeks.  
  
Launchpad hadn’t deserved that. And the idea that someone could do that to Dewey was, frankly, terrifying. Hugging his knees to his chest, he rocked back and forth. When they said they were throwing Launchpad into traffic, did they mean they were going to dump him in the middle of the highway and let the cars finish the job? They didn’t have to kill LP. They could leave him in a situation where he’d perish anyway.  
  
Shaking, he staggered over to the toilet and threw up. He was in way over his head. Unable to rise, he collapsed to the floor. Launchpad...he cursed softly and then looked around as if someone might reprimand him for cursing. Then again, Dewey thought it was well deserved.  
  
He lost track of time, lying on the cold hard floor and shaking, self-soothing to no avail. He wanted to go home. He wanted his brothers and Uncle Donald. He missed Uncle Scrooge. More than anything, he didn’t want to be here. His vision blurred with tears and he shuddered, gasping for breath. He was getting hysterical.  
  
Was this how his mom had felt before her ship had crashed? Alone and missing her family? Was he going to die like her? He was so scared.  
  
“Get up,” Taurus Bulba snapped and, for a few seconds, it didn’t penetrate the fog of misery hanging over the middle triplet. When Dewey didn’t respond, Taurus Bulba unlocked the door and heaved the boy to his feet. Dewey swayed and Bulba sneered.  
  
“We need to put in an appearance to rile up the masses and bring Gosalyn Waddlemeyer and Webbigail Vanderquack here,” he said and then snorted. “You look pathetic enough that it might bring them running anyway, but we need additional insurance.”  
  
He tugged the young boy along and all Dewey could think was that he was too much like his mom and it was going to get him killed. Chest heaving, throat tight with suppressed sobs, he kept his gaze rooted to the concrete floor. It seemed the safest place to stare until it reminded him that they’d dumped Launchpad on a street somewhere. If he hadn’t thrown up before, he would have now.  
  
He was petrified for himself and Launchpad. And Webby and Gosalyn too. This was different from adventuring. He lifted his gaze to stare at Bulba’s back. The things that he never let himself think were at the forefront of his mind now. He didn’t want to be tortured. He didn’t want to die.  
  
He’d cleaned himself up as best he could after letting his terror run its course in his cell. He could still smell vomit. No, he would be strong, like his mom had been. He knew Della Duck hadn’t gone to her end willingly. She would have raged against the dying of the light too.  
  
But he was just a kid…  
  
His stomach clenched. Somehow, it had to be okay. Everything had to be okay. The alternative was too horrible to consider.  
  


* * *

  
  
Twins had something called twin telemetry sometimes, where they could tell what was going on with their siblings. Huey wasn’t sure if he had it or he was so worked up about Dewey’s kidnapping that he thought he had it. While he thought nothing had befallen Dewey personally, he worried about his younger brother in a madman’s hands. There was no telling what he could do. If Dewey hadn’t been allied with Scrooge McDuck, Huey knew that Bulba would have killed him by now. For some reason, Huey’s cheeks smarted as if he’d been belted across the face, which was new and unwelcome. No one had ever struck him in his life; he couldn’t account for his face hurting.  
  
Darkwing had brought Gosalyn over to the manor and the adults were now sitting and talking strategy in a locked room. Louie had attempted to eavesdrop and Mrs. Beakley had found him out. Thus, the kids had been put in their own locked room, where Huey paced and Webby fussed, worried about Gosalyn (who was in favor of climbing out the window, never mind the DT-87 security system).  
  
She was worried about Dewey too, Huey figured, but she knew Gosalyn far better. Huey closed his eyes as if focusing might bring a clearer mental image of what his brother was going through. Louie was speaking and it took Huey a minute to realize what he was saying was important. And also, quite frankly, insane.  
  
“One of us can distract the adults while the others go off and look for Dewey and Launchpad,” Louie was saying.  
  
“No,” Huey growled. He bolted upright on the bed. “Taurus Bulba’s too dangerous to mess with.”  
  
Louie self-consciously rubbed his cheek, the same one that Huey felt the pain in. No, it couldn’t be a coincidence. They were feeling whatever Dewey was feeling and it was terrifying. Dewey himself was petrified.  
  
“We’re not going to let Dewey and Launchpad suffer,” Gosalyn retorted. “Not because of something that’s my fault.”  
  
“It’s not your fault,” Huey said. “And you don’t even know if you know the combination to the Ramrod.”  
  
“She knows it,” Webby said and looked utterly miserable. She was perched on Dewey’s bed. Huey was pacing on the floor, Webby sat on the middle bunk, and Louie was on top. Gosalyn was sitting on the floor.  
  
“Did you tell anyone else? Besides Webby?” Huey asked and Gosalyn shook her head.  
  
“I didn’t want anyone else to get hurt,” she said and glowered at Huey as if daring the oldest triplet to contradict her. She glanced again at the window and then sprang for it with Webby right behind her. Huey cursed inwardly and then reprimanded himself for it. In a flash, the two girls were out the window and climbing down the trellis toward the ground. With the window open, the alarm started blaring, as it was rigged to detect anyone opening a window or the exits to the manor. Gosalyn cursed and started working faster with Webby right on her heels. Louie gave Huey a look as if to ask whether he was going to leave their brother in jeopardy because he didn’t want to break the rules. Huey suppressed a groan.  
  
“I’ll stay here and hold down the fort,” Louie offered.  
  
Huey eyed him suspiciously. It was hard to hear his youngest brother over the alarm shrieking and, with misgivings, he left him to trail the girls, who were already on the ground. Unlike the girls who had been trained from an early age in physical prowess, Huey was not quite as adroit and it took him several minutes to reach them. By that point, they had already reached the front gates, which were locked.  
  
“Grapple hook,” Gosalyn demanded.  
  
“Got it,” Webby said.  
  
“I don’t think so, lassies,” Scrooge’s voice boomed out.  
  
“Work faster,” Gosalyn hissed at Webby.  
  
Webby secured the grappling hook on the other side of the side of the gate and the two girls sailed over it. As they did, two robots materialized, both baring a DT-87 identification. They reached out their arms toward them and Huey watched as Webby and Gosalyn attempted to deflect or evade their grasp. With a nod, they worked in tandem, disabling one robot and then another.  
  
“I’m sorry about this,” Gizmoduck said once the robots had been defeated. Gosalyn rushed him and he grabbed first her and then Webby. The two struggled in his grip, but it was too late. You could fool a robot, but not a robotic machine powered by an actual brain. They twisted, trying to make him wrap himself up in his arms, and Huey watched as Gizmoduck clutched them to his chest.  
  
“Mr. McDuck thought you two might make a break for it,” Gizmoduck explained. “He and the others don’t want you going off on your own.”  
  
“Gosalyn, you promised me you wouldn’t,” Darkwing Duck snapped as he and the other adults headed for the gates. Gosalyn huffed, giving up the ghost for now, and then shot Webby another indecipherable glance. They pushed off against Gizmoduck and he clutched them tighter.  
  
“Let us go!” Gosalyn demanded. “We have to get to Dewey and Launchpad!”  
  
“You dinnae have to get to Launchpad,” Scrooge said quietly. “He’s been found.”  
  
Darkwing, to whom this was apparently news, swiveled his head to regard the old tycoon. “Where? Where is he?”  
  
“He’s in the Duckburg hospital,” Mrs. Beakley answered. “He has several broken ribs, lacerations, and bruises everywhere.”  
  
“Sounds like Launchpad after a bad crash,” Gosalyn muttered, but she stopped fighting.  
  
“What about Dewey?” Webby pressed and guilt and anxiety vied for control on her face. “Is he okay?”  
  
“I know he’s alive,” Scrooge said and his face darkened in fury. “But other than that, we dinnae know much. Taurus Bulba is keeping him on a tight leash.  
  
“Did you lot really think you were going to take on Taurus Bulba by yourselves?”  
  
“He’s after me,” Gosalyn protested.  
  
“And that’s a good reason not to leave the manor,” Darkwing snapped. “Gos, I told you. I don’t want anything happening to you.”  
  
“And I don’t want anything happening to you or anyone else because I was his real target,” she countered.  
  
“Oh, children,” Mrs. Beakley said softly. “It’s not your obligation to protect the adults. It’s our duty to protect you.”  
  
“But--” Gosalyn protested.  
  
“No ‘buts’, Gosalyn,” Darkwing said and glanced over at Webby and Huey too. “Were you all in on this?”  
  
“They started going out the window and I was worried…” Huey confessed. About them and about his brother.  
  
Darkwing motioned to Scrooge and the gates opened. He rushed toward Gosalyn, whom Gizmoduck released into his arms. The redheaded girl looked huffy and her expression was pained as Darkwing hugged her tightly. Gizmoduck then released Webby and Mrs. Beakley put a hand on her shoulder. The British, if he remembered correctly, weren’t quite as into public displays of affection as the Americans were.  
  
“We’ll find Dewey and we’ll give them hell,” Scrooge promised, kneeling at Huey’s side. “No one kidnaps my nephew and gets away with it.”  
  
He glanced up at the trio of children. “None of you lot are getting out again, even if it means Gizmoduck has to patrol the house. This is far too dangerous for children.”  
  
“But we were trained to be junior SHUSH agents,” Webby protested. “We can help.”  
  
“You’re not fully trained,” Darkwing corrected. “You were in pre-training. That’s different. You’re too young, both of you.”  
  
“We want to help!” Gosalyn protested.  
  
“The best way you can help is to stay put and safe, so we don’t have to worry about you,” Darkwing responded.  
  
Gosalyn fumed. This was not the answer she wanted and she folded her arms across her chest as her father released her. She huffed, blowing her bangs out of her eyes.  
  
“Back to the manor,” Scrooge declared. “Where you lot are staying. Don’t even think about making a break for it again.”  
  


* * *

  
  
“There’s no way the wee bairns are going to stay still,” Scrooge said once they were sequestered in his office again. “If it weren’t for Gizmoduck, they would’ve split.”  
  
“Even if Gosalyn does know the code,” Darkwing Duck said, staring out the window, “Bulba won’t rest with just getting it. He’ll want to ‘tie up loose ends’.”  
  
His expression was pained, though the others could only see his reflection.  
  
“We can’t afford to bring them along,” Mrs. Beakley said. “They’d provide too convenient a target for Bulba. Even if they can hold their own.”  
  
“And we don’t know if they can,” Darkwing added. He clenched his fists. He couldn’t believe Launchpad was in the hospital with broken ribs, contusions, and the like. While he knew it was thanks to Launchpad that he was hiding out here, he wasn’t that upset with the man. His blood ran cold thinking of what Bulba had already done to him and what he might do to a child.  
  
“But how long can we keep them cooped up in there before they figure out a way around Gizmoduck and the security system?” Scrooge muttered. “They’re crafty for wee ones.”  
  
“If we could ensure their safety, maybe…” Mrs. Beakley said and Darkwing bristled.  
  
“You’re not taking them along!” he objected.  
  
“I wasn’t suggesting that,” she replied, testy. “You always jump the gun. You’re just like your father.”  
  
Darkwing huffed, glowering at her. Beneath the anger was concern. If Gosalyn acted the way she had at the orphanage, they could even now be plotting their escape. The safest course of action, if they couldn’t ensure they wouldn’t leave well enough alone, would be to take them with them. Then they’d be in the thick of it, but at least they’d know where they were. If they went off on their own, they could end up captured or worse. (Like Launchpad, his treacherous mind whispered).  
  
“If we’re all here and Gizmoduck is out there, patrolling the house, then who’s watching the security cameras?” Scrooge asked. “They almost got over the gate last time. If Gizmoduck is inside the grounds and he’s following the same path, they could time it and escape that way.”  
  
“At least we don’t have to worry about anyone breaking in,” Mrs. Beakley said.  
  
“Aye, we have our hands full as it is,” Scrooge replied darkly.  
  
None of them knew quite what to do. On the one hand, if they left the children here, they’d be safe...until they figured out a way around Gizmoduck. On the other hand, if they brought them along, then they wouldn’t have to worry about them sneaking around behind their backs. But, again, Taurus Bulba wouldn’t be able to resist the bait.  
  
They were up a familiar creek without a paddle.  
  
“Do we let them prove themselves?” Darkwing asked and the others turned to stare at him. “I don’t want Gosalyn hurt and I know you two don’t want Webby or the boys hurt. But...what are we supposed to do? They got around the DT-87 security system, not to mention the robots, and almost fooled Gizmoduck.”  
  
A loud boom shook the house.  
  
“What the blazes was that?” Scrooge demanded.  
  
“I don’t suppose learning how to make explosives was part of their pre-training, was it?” Darkwing said darkly.  
  
“You should know! Or didn’t you read the manual?” Mrs. Beakley snapped.  
  
“No one reads the manual,” he scoffed. “Just give me the gist.”  
  
“Oh, I’ll do more than that, you buffoon,” she growled.  
  
“Beakley!” Scrooge said. As one, they nodded, though Darkwing had the sense that Mrs. Beakley was only tabling the argument for a later time.  
  
“By any chance, would a large explosive take out the DT-87?” Darkwing asked.  
  
Scrooge cursed, which he took as a ‘yes’. They rushed out of the room and toward the security center. Once there, they discovered the cameras had been disabled, except for one, which showed smoking wreckage. Darkwing didn’t know where that was in the house, though he gathered that Scrooge probably did.  
  
“Curse me kilts,” he snapped. “We’d better see what that was. Split up--Beakley, you and Darkwing--”  
  
“I am not going anywhere with him,” she snapped.  
  
“It’s either that or I summon Duckworth,” he countered.  
  
She glowered. “Fine. I’ll go with him under protest.”  
  
“Noted,” Scrooge said testily. “Let’s go. You take the south wings and I’ll take the north.”  
  
For a few minutes, both Darkwing and Beakley were silent as they split off from Scrooge. He could feel the older woman simmering in rage and his stomach twisted, worrying about Gosalyn. No one ever told you how much worrying being a parent involves, not to mention lack of sleep. He felt like those were two crucial areas that the parenting books glossed over.  
  
They soon found the location of the explosion. That was the good news, if it could be considered “good”. The bad news was that it’d been a diversion and they’d fallen for it. Hopefully, Scrooge had had more luck.  
  
Twenty minutes later, they had their answer.  
  
He hadn’t. And Gizmoduck was turning up empty too. Apparently, Louie knew how to hack into Gizmoduck’s suit, which he’d done over Huey’s protests. Or so they’d gathered. The important thing was that the kids were gone while they’d been arguing about what to do with them.  
  
“We need to figure out where they went,” Scrooge said, pounding a fist into his palm. “And head them off. Just because I no longer have a driver doesn’t mean I can’t drive.”  
  
“The last time you did, you nearly got us all killed,” Mrs. Beakley retorted.  
  
“I dinnae see that lad there and he almost hit me, not the other way around,” Scrooge retorted stubbornly.  
  
“Never mind that,” Darkwing said. “We need to find them. Now. Before they get hurt.”  
  
If it wasn’t already too late. Darkwing’s stomach twisted itself into knots. He hoped Gosalyn and the others were okay…  
  


* * *

  
  
Taurus Bulba smiled as he spied the kids exiting McDuck Manor, getting over the gate, and then heading into Duckburg and, from there, into St. Canard. That was probably the plan. He had installed a camera on the house across the street from the manor’s driveway and it was monitoring them until they passed out of sight. This was exactly what he’d wanted them to do.  
  
They were playing right into his hands.  
  
He turned and regarded Dewey, who was tied to a chair. The young boy regarded him sullenly and Taurus Bulba saw that the boy’s eye was swelling from Bulba’s earlier backhand. He shouldn’t have let his temper get the better of him. Still...in for a penny, in for a pound.  
  
“Like what you see? They’re coming to ‘rescue you’,” he sneered. “And once they do, I’ll kill the spares after I get what I want. No one will miss two orphans.”  
  
Dewey objected and Bulba cuffed him so hard in the back of the head that it brought tears to the boy’s eyes. He then tried to bite him and Taurus Bulba sneered, stepping back and out of the boy’s range.  
  
“I won’t bother to ransom you and your brothers,” Bulba told him. “We both know Scrooge McDuck would never pay up. So...we’ll see how things play out from here.”  
  
He grinned at him. “Don’t worry. After I’m done with Gosalyn Waddlemeyer and Webbigail Vanderquack, what Launchpad McQuack endured will seem like a light knock on the head.”  
  


* * *

  
  
Taurus Bulba had better not count Doofus Drake out of this. He was aware that the others were coming to rescue Dewey, including Louie. That made his job that much easier. He was going to enjoy tormenting Louie. Perhaps not to the extent that Taurus Bulba had, but...well…  
  
Doofus grinned. He should never have walked away from him. No one walked away from Doofus Drake and got away with it. No one.


	8. Chapter 8

Dewey’s eye had swollen shut and his head rang from Bulba’s blow. He was having a hard time focusing, not that there was much to concentrate on. Taurus Bulba delighted in telling him how he intended to “deal with” Gosalyn and Webby and if Dewey weren’t already sick to his stomach, that would’ve done it. He’d told him, in excruciating detail, what he’d done to Gosalyn’s grandfather. Dewey didn’t think he’d be able to endure that kind of abuse. He shuddered uncontrollably.  
  
With his hands tied behind his back, he sought a way to escape. He rubbed his wrists against the wooden chair to get the rope to snap. So far, it was slow going, given the headache and moving only when Bulba wasn’t paying attention to him. If he could just get his hands free, then...well, he’d work out what he was going to do after that. Unlike his brother Huey, he tended to stink at planning. He went with the flow and kept his fingers crossed.  
  
Bulba cuffed him again, a hard knock to the head that left him seeing double in his good eye. Dewey groaned and felt cold iron encircle his wrists. Handcuffs, it felt like. He didn’t know. By now he was in so much pain it was hard to figure out which way was up.  
  
“My uncle Scrooge is going to totally kill you for this,” Dewey said and then spat out blood. How hard had he hit him? Jeez. Didn’t this qualify as child abuse? He was pretty sure it did.  
  
“Bah,” he scoffed. “I’ll worry about him later.”  
  
“Or you could let me go and worry about him now?” Dewey offered. Taurus Bulba raised his hand (or both hands, he couldn’t tell) and Dewey instinctively flinched. Never mind Scrooge. Uncle Donald would have Bulba’s head. The thought of his uncles avenging him was cold comfort, however. Right now, he could barely see anything and what he saw didn’t exactly instill in him much confidence.  
  
“The trap is set,” Bulba informed him and pointed toward a laptop screen. Dewey’s vision was too blurry to make out individual features, but he guessed the pinkish figure was Webby and the one wearing a hockey shirt was probably Gosalyn. But...no.  
  
There was a figure wearing green and another wearing red. Dewey’s heart clenched painfully in his chest. His brothers were with the girls. They were all rushing headlong into danger and a fight against a homicidal maniac who exulted in torturing people. Dewey shuddered uncontrollably and he fought a whimper. On the one hand, he was glad the cavalry was coming, but on other, they were playing right into Bulba’s hands.  
  
“And look, we have an additional treat,” the bull-man crooned. “Your brothers are coming along for the ride.”  
  
Dewey gagged and spat up bile that burned his throat. He simultaneously wanted them to come and wanted them to stay far away. He didn’t know which was worse.  
  


* * *

  
  
The adults hadn’t wasted any time. Once they had discovered that the kids were gone (and no one had been allowed to tell Donald, lest he rush off in a rage), they had immediately set into motion plans to rescue the kids and defeat Bulba. Unfortunately, this was easier said than done. The kids were in grave danger and Scrooge was not happy in the slightest that they’d all gone haring off without so much as a warning. Okay, yes, they’d technically had a warning the first time they’d made a break for it, but this had left him flabbergasted. What chutzpah. Huh. Reminded him a little of him as a wee lad. But, no, focus.  
  
Seeing as Darkwing Duck’s Thunderquack was the closest thing on hand, they’d been forced to take it. Darkwing was an adequate pilot if something of a blabbermouth. Scrooge’s nerves, which were already racketed up high, couldn’t tolerate the younger man’s nattering. Thankfully, Mrs. Beakley seemed in the same boat, because after she threatened to send him through the windshield, he quieted. Scrooge took a deep breath in an attempt to steel himself. His hands were shaking.  
  
Dewey had always reminded him the most of Della. Losing him was almost like losing her all over again. And losing all three boys? Unacceptable.  
  
The truth was he blamed himself for this, but he wasn’t about to admit it, not to them. To do so would be to show weakness and Scrooge McDuck was many things, but weak was not one of them. He was never second best, he was never vulnerable, and he never made mistakes. Not ones he readily admitted to. Then again, this whole venture was a mistake. They never should have let the wee bairns out of their sight.  
  
They flew over Saint Canard via the Audubon Bridge and as they came closer to where they thought Bulba might be, tensions grew higher. Darkwing’s hands shook on the steering wheel, which lowered Scrooge’s confidence in him further. He also oddly approved, because it meant that he was concerned enough about the situation to let his nerves show.  
  
A message flashed on Darkwing’s console and he hissed, scanning it and discarding the information in a minute. Nonetheless, he adjusted their direction and Scrooge saw that it had contained Bulba’s coordinates. To his consternation, his heart pounded in his chest. Curse his kilts, he was worried about them.  
  
It felt more and more like they were heading into certain disaster. He just hoped, for once, that his gut instinct was wrong. The problem was that over the years, he’d learned to trust his gut in many matters. Trying to convince himself it was incorrect nauseated him.  
  
He caught Beakley’s gaze. Her beak was set and she inclined her head toward him slightly. Good old Beakley, with nerves of steel. He wished he could join in her conviction, although it was entirely possible she felt the same keen uneasiness that he did. Like him, she would also never admit to it.  
  
Darkwing halted in midair and they startled, staring at him. Without speaking, perhaps not trusting himself to speak, he gestured toward the city through his windshield. It had gone dark, every light off. Megavolt? No, this had more the feel of…  
  
The Thunderquack tilted and the engines died.  
  
...an electromagnetic pulse.  
  
Darkwing cursed and worked to right the plane. The only thing he could do was attempt to put them into a guided descend, which was proving harder and harder as the controls weren’t responding. They were due to crash; while that wasn’t an unfamiliar experience, given Launchpad’s piloting, it wasn’t one he exactly enjoyed. But why employ an EMP and knock them down before they reached Bulba? Unless he was playing for time and that was something he had more of than they did.  
  
Had the kids reached him yet? What if they had and he was drawing this out to prolong their suffering.  
  
“Is there an eject button in this blasted thing?” Scrooge snarled, words forced past a tight throat. Anger, at least, was a safe emotion to display.  
  
The ground was coming up too fast for his liking and he heard someone cackling beyond the plane. Megavolt. Bulba had employed Megavolt to knock out the city’s electric grid. Scrooge scanned the buttons, but it was hard to tell which was which. He had no idea how to fly a plane or if the Thunderquack even had eject buttons.  
  
A Jumbotron went on above their heads and the image on it made Scrooge’s blood run cold. Dewey was bound to a wall and one of Taurus Bulba’s stooges was blindfolded and throwing darts at him. He’d missed so far, but Scrooge was anticipating the moment when he’d get lucky and strike the boy at best in a non-vital area and, at worst, in his heart. He could barely breathe for the fear and rage that consumed him.  
  
Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately, depending on how you look at it), the image disappeared as the ground came up faster to meet them. He braced for impact and heard Dewey cry out. That was the last straw. He was getting to Bulba and giving him the walloping of a lifetime, even if he had to walk there himself.  
  
He just hoped Dewey could last long enough.  
  
“Don’t worry,” Mrs. Beakley said darkly and he glanced at her once they landed (and finished screaming). “When I’m done with him, there won’t be enough left to send home.”  
  
They staggered out of the Thunderquack’s wreck and Darkwing gasped, looking up at the Jumbotron too. Gosalyn, Huey, and Louie swung in a cage above Dewey’s head. But where was Webbigail? And how had they gotten themselves captured in the first place? Gosalyn had seemed much more resourceful than that unless she’d frozen upon encountering Bulba, which was entirely possible. What did the kids call it? Having a blue screen of death moment? BSOD?  
  
“I just hope we’re not too late,” Darkwing said and Scrooge nodded. He wasn’t sure he could speak right now and he didn’t want to try.  
  


* * *

  
  
An hour ago…  
  
“All right, so we all know what we’re doing, right?” Gosalyn asked, staring over her ‘troops’, such as they were. Of them, she only trusted Webby and she feared for her sister’s safety. Webby, however, was concealing her apprehension, which was such a typically Webby move. Later, if there was a later (and of course there would be, how could she think otherwise?), she’d have to have another serious discussion about Webby’s repressing her emotions for what she perceived as the “greater good”.  
  
“We’re the distraction and Webby and you are the main attack force,” Huey said and frowned. “I can’t help but feel the division of labor is unfair here. We can do more than be the ‘distraction’.”  
  
“Not to mention if we’re bait, that means we’re going to suffer the brunt of whatever Bulba has planned,” Louie added.  
  
“It can’t be helped,” Gosalyn said, waving away the boys’ concerns like so much chaff. “Besides, Webby and I have training in this area. You don’t know. Webby and I know what we’re up against. You don’t. Therefore, it’s girls versus boys and the girls have it. You don’t.”  
  
“But don’t you need someone who can help the bait get out of trouble?” Louie retorted.  
  
“If you have a better plan, let’s hear it,” Gosalyn shot back. Webby, she noticed, was staying out of this. She was scanning the area and assessing threats, as well as generating her own conclusions. At times, it felt like she and Webby had a psychic link and could react without speaking. Now was not one of those times.  
  
“Okay, for one thing, if we can avoid Bulba’s attention--” Louie started and Gosalyn cut him off.  
  
“Not possible,” she said. “How do you plan on freeing Dewey right from under Bulba’s snout? And especially without a distraction?”  
  
“My point is that we don’t need to be the distraction,” he huffed. “There has to be a way, like what we did in the manor, where we can slip their notice.”  
  
“I don’t think a bomb is going to work here,” Webby said, staring at the formidable building before them. They were around the corner from Bulba’s HQ, as none of them had wanted the security cameras to catch a glimpse of them and then alert Bulba to their presence. The element of surprise was the only thing on their side. They were younger, inexperienced, and less powerful than Bulba and his goons. Gosalyn’s stomach churned. And they were less vicious. Her poor grandfather.  
  
“I’m not saying a bomb,” Louie argued. “I’m saying something subtler. There’s nothing subtle about a bomb.”  
  
Huey snorted. “You just figured that out?”  
  
Louie reddened and then stiffened along with his brother. Webby’s gaze flew to them.  
  
“What is it? What’s wrong?” she inquired.  
  
“I don’t know,” Huey admitted and grimaced. “I have a vague feeling of pain from Dewey, but that’s all. I can’t tell you more than that. It’s like the feeling of malaise we’ve been having ever since he was kidnapped. Triplet connections are kinda impossible to pin down; they’re more like a sense of something wrong than a specific thing.”  
  
Louie huffed. “All the more reason why we need to act now and do what I say.”  
  
“No, all the more reason to do what I say,” Gosalyn argued.  
  
Ignoring her objection, Louie continued. “You two are the true targets here. If Bulba captures me and Huey, he’s going to start looking around for you two. He won’t rest until he finds you. How well do you think your charade is going to work when he discovers you’re not with us but elsewhere in the building?”  
  
“You don’t have the skills and wherewithal to pull this mission off,” Gosalyn hissed.  
  
“First off, it doesn’t matter if I don’t have skills--” he started and Gosalyn exploded at him.  
  
“Yes, it does!” she snapped back. “It matters a lot! You weren’t trained for this--”  
  
“You weren’t trained for this either, you were in pre-training--”  
  
“Uh, guys?” Webby said. “Guys? You might want to keep it down. We’re just across the street. We’re not that far and if the security cameras pick up sounds they might already know we’re here.”  
  
The sound of a bullet sliding into a chamber halted all conversation. They turned to discover a goat henchman pumping the stock on a shotgun. Gosalyn froze, but only for a second. She charged into action, preparing to disarm her opponent and he grabbed Huey around the neck. Gosalyn rolled her eyes. Maybe she should’ve left the boys at home. They had hostage written all over them.  
  
“Correction: we definitely know you’re here,” the henchman informed them and then held the gun against Huey’s head. Huey went still and Gosalyn and Webby exchanged a glance. They nodded; there was nothing they could do for now, not with Huey being held at gunpoint, but as soon as the henchman lost his grip or grew distracted, they would strike.  
  
“Hey, hey,” Louie said. “It’s not a crime to stand around talking, is it? We’re not even bothering you. We were just having a conversation.”  
  
“Don’t pull a ‘Louie’...don’t pull a ‘Louie’...” Huey muttered and, perplexed, Gosalyn looked at the duck in the green hoodie. What was that supposed to mean?  
  
The henchman shifted his gun toward Louie, but in the few seconds where it’d been targeting nothing, the girls attacked. They knocked him backward, the gun went flying, and then went off, causing a deafening blast and prompting everyone to yelp in pain. Well, she assumed everyone. It was hard to tell with her ears ringing.  
  
There was a rhino henchman coming up behind the goat and then, from behind them, two more henchmen, accompanied by the face that haunted Gosalyn’s nightmares. Taurus Bulba stood there, leering at her, and her legs collapsed out from under her. Her heart raced.  
  
She had no idea what was running through Webby’s mind. Gosalyn’s was running a complete blank. She didn’t even notice when her sister vanished, slipping between the goons and dashing toward the hideout. Her heart was in her throat and she whimpered, sheer terror overriding all common sense.  
  
“Well, that was easier than I anticipated,” Bulba said. “But...where is the second girl child?”  
  
Gosalyn hardly dared to turn her head to search for Webby. A henchman, the damn goat, grabbed her from behind and threw his arm across her windpipe. Gasping, she struggled instinctively and this earned her a cuff to the back of the head. Bulba’s eyes were alight with malice and hatred.  
  
“You will tell me the code to the Ramrod,” he informed her. “And when I’m finished with you and Doofus Drake is as well...I will leave your remains for Darkwing Duck.”  
  
Gosalyn struggled, but it was weaker now, her limbs leaden with fear. Bulba sniffed and stared around him as if Webby might materialize out of thin air.  
  
“Find the other girl,” he informed them. “But...there is no hurry. If she has done what I think she has, then she will encounter Doofus Drake first.”  
  
He smiled. “And I would be willing to bet that Drake will get the better of her again.”  
  
Webby...Gosalyn moaned. The rhino had seized Louie and Bulba had a gun on Huey.  
  
“In the meanwhile, I do believe having all three of Scrooge McDuck’s grand-nephews will trump any plans that the adults might have had in apprehending me,” Bulba said with a malicious grin. “And once I play my cards, McDuck will have no choice but to capitulate...or, well...we’ll see whether you are worth more dead or alive."  
  
“Alive, definitely alive,” Louie gasped.  
  
“You’d better hope so, green child,” Bulba said and snorted. “But I would not count on it.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My favorite characters (and one not so favorite) are abused and left battered and bleeding by the end of this chapter. Doofus and Webby face off and Dewey is treated like Taurus Bulba's personal ragdoll.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, that ep today. I tell you. Too bad we have to wait until _May_ now. Ugh. 
> 
> This chapter is closer to PG than G. But there's no PG on AO3. So just be aware that Webby, Dewey, and Doofus get roughed up a considerable amount. 
> 
> Yeah, I know, I’ve owed people an update for a while now. Sorry. So I decided to write all of this in one shot today. It still ends on a cliffhanger, but I don’t feel like forcing any more writing out.
> 
>  
> 
> And I have two other chapters that are almost finished for A Modern Myth and Stranger in a Strange Land.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The Present…

 

Dewey cried out as the stiletto struck him in the arm. It had struck him in a non-vital place, which was the only good thing he could say about the whole ordeal. He strained his neck and spied his brothers in a cage dangling above the floor. Gosalyn was there too and he groaned. It looked like the rescue attempt had been doomed from the start. But, wait. Where was Webby?

 

“Dewey!” Huey and Louie cried in dismay. Dewey jerked his arm only to discover that the stiletto had pierced through it and was pinning him to the board behind him. He shuddered. Oh, that was so not good. He had the feeling the stiletto was the only thing keeping in the blood. It felt like someone had shoved a hot, sharp object through him and every time he wriggled, it sent waves of agony through him. His vision grew spotty.

 

“Stop!” Gosalyn cried. “I’ll tell you what you want to know! Just stop!”

 

Another stiletto flew close to Dewey’s neck. It came within an inch of striking his carotid artery. Dewey whimpered and his heart pounded. Taurus Bulba shifted from his contemplation of the middle Duck brother to regard the redhead thoughtfully. Gosalyn gulped, keeping her head high, from what he could see through the corner of his gaze. He couldn’t turn his head very far and he was starting to feel a little woozy.

 

“Will you now?” Taurus Bulba said and grabbed the stiletto pinned to the board beside Dewey’s neck. “That wasn’t so bad, was it, little duckling? And I didn’t even have to kill him.”

 

“Dewey, are you okay?” Huey asked urgently.

 

“The blood’s inside me, so I guess that’s good,” he replied. His head spun.

 

“Yeah, it’s inside until someone jerks that stiletto out,” Louie retorted. Despite his tone, he sounded worried. “As soon as we get down from here--”

 

“But who said you were going to be freed?” Taurus Bulba sneered. He stepped up to Dewey and flicked his fingers at the stiletto in his arm. Dewey screamed, pained tears springing to his eyes. He was panting now, eyes wide, and his beak quivered. 

 

“Leave him alone! What do you hope to gain from tormenting a kid?” Huey snapped. “He doesn’t know anything. And Uncle Scrooge is going to lock you away for life when he sees what you did to Dewey.”

 

“That assumes I intend to be caught,” Bulba rejoined. He twirled the other stiletto between his fingers and then flung it at Louie, who ducked. It grazed his cheek and Louie fell to his knees and huddled in a ball. His younger brother was shaking too and Huey wrapped an arm about him.

 

“However, I am open to hearing how to operate the Ramrod. Should you tell me, I promise I will allow you to go free,” he said. “Just not all of you. Doofus has something in mind for Gosalyn and I am sure your pretty little friend Webbigail has encountered him by now. What is left after that, well, it may be enough to fill a small box between the two of them.”

 

Gosalyn rattled off the code so fast that Dewey didn’t catch half of what she said. Her chest was rising and falling rapidly and her gaze was hooked onto his arm, where he was losing feeling. Bulba scoffed, twisting the stiletto in to prevent Dewey from falling unconscious from the pain. Dewey whimpered and then screamed.

 

“Stop it! Leave him alone!” Louie cried. “We didn’t do anything to you!”

 

“Ah, but Scrooge McDuck helps fund the program at the orphanage. That makes it partially his fault. And as I cannot torture him…” 

 

He pulled another stiletto out of his pocket and surveyed Dewey. “Come now. Do you have a favorite eye?”

 

“You’ll kill him!” Huey cried and Dewey heard the panic and terror in his voice. 

 

“Perhaps, perhaps not,” Taurus Bulba said. “Maim, yes, definitely. But you do not need both eyes to go through life.”

 

“Stop...I don’t know...what you want...but stop...c’mon, please…” Dewey begged and warmth rushed down his leg as his bladder released. “I’m just a kid...Louie’s right. I didn’t do anything to you.”

 

Gosalyn had finished that strange song and Bulba turned from Dewey to unlock the cage that was at a head level to him. He pulled Gosalyn out and wrenched her arm behind her back. Gosalyn yelped and Bulba snorted, ready to shove the cage closed on the two boys. They surged forward, jumping out of the cage and landing, incredibly, on their feet. They took up places in front of Dewey.

 

“Henchmen!” Bulba called over his shoulder. “Keep the children occupied while I test out Gosalyn’s solution. I will be handling her. The boys, on the other hand, are your responsibility.”

 

He was less than surprised to discover that the henchmen still had guns and, through force, compelled his brothers back into the cage. Huey shot Dewey an apologetic look and Dewey would have rolled his eyes, but he was feeling woozy. He blacked out for a minute and when he came to, he discovered the henchmen standing at the side and his brothers staring at him in consternation.

 

“We have to get out of here,” Louie said.

 

“You need medical attention,” Huey agreed. 

 

“Everything hurts…” Dewey gasped. Everything that he could feel hurt and the disturbing numbness was spreading up his arm. Suddenly, he wanted Uncle Donald to sweep in there, show his trademark temper, and bring them safely home. Uncle Donald was the closest thing they had to a parent and Dewey felt himself regress to his younger childhood days when Uncle Donald was both a father-like figure and safety. His vision blurred with tears.

 

“Can you move your right hand?” Huey pressed.

 

Dewey tried and nothing happened. He would have been more disturbed if a strange calmness hadn’t rushed over him. “No.”

 

Huey hissed and pulled out his JWG from under his hat. He flipped through the pages, doubtless trying to find a remedy for someone who had been stabbed through a body part. Dewey didn’t know why he was bothering. Even if he did find something, they wouldn’t be able to help him from the cage. 

 

“Can you feel your right arm at all?” Huey continued.

 

“No.”

 

Louie cursed. 

 

“We’re gonna get you out of there,” Huey promised. “I’ll figure out something. Or the adults might come in and rescue us. Plus, there’s Webby...she’s around here somewhere. She wouldn’t abandon us.”

 

Louie’s gaze was hooked onto Dewey. “Don’t you dare die on us. Do you hear me?”

 

“I’m not gonna die,” Dewey scoffed, though his voice sounded far away and tinny in his ears. “You’re exaggerating.”

 

“He might be, but…” Huey stopped and his voice faded in and out. Dewey was losing consciousness. 

 

“Don’t you dare,” Louie said. “Dewey!”

 

“Just gonna...take a nap now…” Dewey muttered. He slumped in his chains and heaviness bore down on him. He couldn’t reach over to yank out the stiletto even if he wanted to. Besides, it was okay. He was too tired to do anything. He’d given it a good shot, hadn’t he? It wasn’t his fault he’d been captured and tortured. Uncle Scrooge would understand.

 

“No! You can’t pass out!” Huey protested.

 

“...can too…” Dewey murmured.

 

“Hey, jerk!” Louie called to one of the henchmen. “If our brother dies, Uncle Scrooge is going to bury you guys. The McDuck/Duck temper is legendary. It’s in your best interest to let us out. You wouldn’t want to be there when Gizmoduck gets here or when Mrs. B shows up. You have to know that she’s an ex-spy. She’d totally kick your asses. So you have two choices. You can let us go or you can suffer the consequences when they show up.”

 

Why was Louie bothering? Dewey didn’t understand. He wondered distantly if the stiletto had been poisoned. That might explain the numbness permeating his body. For a moment, his mind flicked back to the picture of Della, Donald, and Scrooge standing near three large eggs. Them. If he died, at least he’d see his mom, right? He could finally meet her.

 

The henchmen seemed to be taking Louie’s words under consideration if the approaching footsteps were any indication. He yanked the stiletto out of Dewey’s arm and unlocked his chains. Dewey collapsed to the floor and cradled his right arm. The stiletto was still partially embedded in his arm, albeit not through now. More keys slotted into locks and Huey and Louie joined him. Huey ripped off part of his shirt and tied it about Dewey’s arm as a tourniquet.

 

“Man, I hope that’s better than it looks,” Louie said. Huey brushed Dewey’s hair back from his forehead to take his temperature.

 

“And I hope that blade wasn’t poisoned,” Huey replied. “Can you hear me, Dewey?”

 

“Yeah…” he croaked.

 

The henchmen had left, which was both a blessing and a curse. Dewey didn’t think he could move. His body was weak and it took all of his strength to remain conscious. A speaker crackled overhead and his brothers glanced toward the wall. Dewey clenched his eyes shut tight. He couldn’t spare any energy for looking about.

 

“Hang on, kids! We’re coming!” Scrooge announced.

 

“Uncle Scrooge!” Huey called. “We need a medic!”

 

The speaker clicked off. Dewey doubted that Scrooge had heard them. He shuddered. Chills besieged him and he felt cold to the bone. Huey pulled him into his lap like he had when they were younger and he was trying to be the older, mature brother. Louie sat beside them and smoothed Dewey’s hair out. It was something to do with his hands, which were shaking.

 

“You’ll be fine,” Huey reassured him, though it sounded more like he was attempting to calm himself down rather than Dewey. Dewey shuddered again.

 

“Louie...he’s cold.”

 

Louie pressed a hand to Dewey’s cheek. He felt like he was on fire by comparison.

 

“That jerk didn’t just leave us here to die, did he?” Louie demanded. 

 

“One of us has to find Uncle Scrooge,” Huey said. “The other should stay here with Dewey and keep an eye on him.”

 

“Isn’t splitting up what usually kills people off in horror movies?” 

 

“Yes, but--”

 

“No ‘buts’. We’ll stay here until we’re rescued.”

 

“But one of us can lead the others to Dewey!” Huey protested, sounding aggrieved. “We can’t just sit here and wait for them to show up. They might not find us until it’s too late. I’m going. You stay here and keep an eye on Dewey. I’ll be back soon.”

 

“If you get yourself captured again, I’m not rescuing you,” Louie warned.

 

Huey’s footsteps retreated and Louie grumbled. He shifted Dewey so that he was leaning against him and then Dewey felt the cool air on his face. Louie had stripped off his hoodie and wrapped him in it. He pulled the drawstring tight and rolled the right sleeve back, catching it before it snagged on the blade in his arm. 

 

“I was serious before,” Louie warned. “Don’t you dare die on me, Dewey. Man, Huey  _ had  _ to leave me here. What made him think I knew what I was doing? This isn’t a con or a game. I don’t know how to treat an injured person. And there’s already so much blood...I feel so useless.”

 

Louie grumbled a little more, but Dewey didn’t catch it.

 

“Dewey…” Louie said softly. “Ugh. I can’t believe Huey left me here. Who knows when the adults are coming?”

 

He heard frustration and tears in his younger brother’s voice. 

 

“What if you die? What if you die because of something I did? Or didn’t do? I can’t save you if it comes to that. I’m not a nerd like Huey. I’m not even kickass like Webby. I can’t do anything.”

 

If Dewey hadn’t been sliding toward unconsciousness, he might have assuaged Louie’s fears. He attempted to lift his right arm to brush against Louie’s cheek, but his arm didn’t respond. Sighing, he let the black wave that had been rushing toward him sweep him away.

 

* * *

 

 

Webby shouldn’t have bailed on the others, but she knew it was her only chance to rescue them and confront Doofus Drake. The rotund duckling stood in her path now and sneered, chewing black licorice gum. Webby could smell it from a few feet away and cringed. What kind of weirdo liked black licorice gum? Just the thought made her shudder.

 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Doofus scoffed. “To save your friends? Not happening. You and Gosalyn humiliated me at the show. It’s time for payback.”

 

“We humiliated you?” she countered. “You nearly killed me.”

 

Doofus rolled his eyes and waved his hand. Whatever her feelings were on this, to him they were trivial. A trifling.

 

“Taurus Bulba wants me to leave you alive,” he said, as if this were a huge concession on his part. “So I’ll settle for humiliating you publicly. I have behind me cameras manned by my servants…”

 

Webby turned, taking the room into account. It looked like a large TV studio, complete with bright lights and large cameras that were focused on her. Doofus’s servants bore an odd resemblance to Doofus and she recalled that he was employing his parents. Webby might’ve been disgusted if it hadn’t been for Doofus producing a scourge, a cat o’nine tails. He flicked a switch on the handle and electricity sparked through it. 

 

“Surrender now and I won’t hurt you,” he promised. A wicked grin split his face. “Very much.”

 

This time, she had no backup. She could sense when the show began, though why he wasn’t live-streaming it, she didn’t know. Of course, he might’ve been doing that too. She had other concerns than how he was reaching his audience. When he launched into action, she did a backflip to avoid being lashed. Electricity whispered in her ear.

 

“Oh, and to even the odds, I’ve also waxed the floors and washed the coats of armor,” he said, spreading his arms magnanimously to show the suits of armor that were arrayed about the room. “For that dramatic flair.”

 

Webby skidded. Who the hell waxed the floors? She jumped the next time he darted for her and she aimed for the suits of armor. If she could get him to wedge the whip inside one of the suits, she might stand a fighting chance. As it was, the deck was stacked against her. 

 

However, if the suits were still wet, that could pose a problem. It’d conduct electricity, so she’d have to stay clear of them when he wedged his whip. On the other hand, if she steered clear, she might be able to electrocute him, knock him out, and then rush to rescue her friends and sister.

 

There was no more time to think. The whip’s shocks only meted out whenever Doofus pressed the button, which was important information but nonetheless something she pushed to the back of her mind. When Doofus lunged, skating on the floor like it was an ice rink, Webby kicked out, knocking him off his feet and sending him colliding with a suit of armor. 

 

Unfortunately, he had enough sense to retract the whip before it wedged inside one of the joints. Webby hissed, scanning her surroundings again. She yanked a sword out of an armored suit and then went sliding herself, slipping and landing on her stomach. The breath was knocked out of her and she rolled, avoiding the lash by mere inches.

 

Panting, she realized she wasn’t going to be capable of maneuvering on this floor on her feet. There was nothing to hold her weight that wasn’t likewise susceptible to falling too. When Doofus lashed out with the cat o’nine tails, Webby slashed at his face with the sword. The sword sliced into his arm and produced a deep bleeding gash before it carved a hooked path along his face. It came close to poking out an eye. 

 

Doofus let loose a string of profanities and then struck with the whip again. She could think of one way to end this battle, but it wasn’t right. Doofus might be trying to humiliate her, but this would take things too far. She wasn’t in a medieval war and cutting off his hand would have consequences. Was it possible? Oh, yes. She’d been trained in all sorts of fighting and he hadn’t been. Lopping off his hand was not something he could defend against.

 

But if she struck his wrist with the pommel of her sword, she could numb it, possibly break it. It would heal and he’d be out of luck for now. She’d have to get closer, however. She’d have to be within range of the whip. Gritting her beak, she rolled back and forth on her palms.

 

“What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded and lashed out with the whip again. She crashed into him just as the whip fell on her back. She yelped in pain and then, despite the shock, hit his wrist with the pommel of her sword hard enough to hear a definitive crack. Doofus dropped the whip and then howled again, cradling his broken wrist. Or shattered. She might’ve shattered it. All the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t put Doofus’s wrist back together again. Oops.

 

Doofus looked like he wanted to complain, but, like all bullies, the pain of being defeated, particularly in public, and of facing a superior opponent was too much for him to take. He found his way off the fighting floor and toward his parents, who weren’t standing on a waxed floor at all. The stage was a foot above the rest of the floor and Doofus collapsed onto it, chest heaving as he sobbed.

 

“Shut the cameras off! Shut them off!” he wailed.

 

“You shouldn’t have left a sword out,” Webby said, pushing herself off and then crashing onto the floor herself. Her back was in agony and she could still feel sparks rushing around her. Tears burned in the corners of her eyes, but she wouldn’t let herself cry. There were still hostages to worry about.

 

Also...she was pretty sure she was bleeding badly. She couldn’t see, but her shirt seemed stuck to her back.

 

“She needs to go to the hospital, Doofus,. And so do you,” his mother said, but whereas an uncowed mother might have demanded it, she said it as a suggestion. Doofus sneered as best he could and cradled his wrist while Webby tried to run toward the others. She couldn’t run. She could barely walk. Spots appeared before her eyes and she could feel blood soaking her feathers.

 

No. She would reach them somehow. Even if she had to limp and stagger along like an old lady to do so. She would not let them down. No matter what it cost her.

 

* * *

 

 

They found Webby first. Well, more accurately, they found Huey and Webby before they found the others. Mrs. Beakley’s eyes widened in horror at Webby’s condition and she rushed forward.

 

“I’m okay,” Webby said, but she was unsteady on her feet, slurring her words, and Mrs. Beakley scowled. The girl had already lost a lot of blood. Scrooge eyed her too, but she could tell his attention was elsewhere. Dewey was nowhere to be seen and he’d been in dire straits too.

 

“Where are the others, lad?” Scrooge addressed Huey. 

 

“Where’s Gosalyn?” Darkwing said and glanced at Webby and then his cape. The problem was they wouldn’t be able to determine the extent of the injury until they removed her shirt, which they weren’t going to do right now. 

 

“Gos…?” Webby said weakly.

 

“Taurus Bulba has her,” Huey said. “He left us alone and grabbed her to use the Ramrod. I thought--”

 

“Woah, you’re not going anywhere!” Mrs. Beakley said as Webby lunged, desperate to reach her friend. She went down hard on her knees and Mrs. Beakley snagged her around the waist before she had any more ill-conceived notions. Webby gasped in pain, her eyes clouded, and Mrs. Beakley’s heart lurched. She might have had Webby only a short time, but she was surprisingly attached to her already. And she was impressed by Webby’s grit, although a good agent knew when backup had to be called. 

 

“Seriously, Webby…” Huey said. “I can take you to Dewey and Louie, Uncle Scrooge, but I don’t know where Gosalyn is now.”

 

“Lead me to them, lad,” Scrooge said heavily. “I assume you’re going after Gosalyn?”

 

This he directed at Darkwing Duck, who nodded and looked grave. Without another word, he vanished into his trademark purple smoke. Mrs. Beakley would stay here with Webby. The less Webby moved, the less blood she’d lose. And she already had lost too much for Mrs. Beakley’s liking. 

 

“Gosalyn…” Webby gasped.

 

“We’ll find her,” Mrs. Beakley promised. She balled a fist at her side. “They picked the wrong agents to mess with.”

 

“I have to go to her….” Webby protested and her eyelids fluttered. “Have to...can’t leave her…”

 

“Injuring yourself further will help no one, least of all Gosalyn,” Mrs. Beakley said. “You need to rest. We have a medical team assembled downstairs.”

 

Webby turned to look at her foster grandmother. “I can’t leave her...can’t…”

 

“You aren’t,” Mrs. Beakley said. “Trust me. She’ll be all right.”

 

Webby looked like she wanted to argue the point, yet no longer had the strength to do so. Legs trembling, she would have crashed to the floor again if Mrs. Beakley weren’t supporting her. Uneasy, Mrs. Beakley began the trek back to the elevator. She didn’t know how Webby had ascended or descended the stairs in her condition. 

 

“In the meanwhile, we need to worry about what we  _ can  _ handle,” she replied and, scooping Webby up gently, she opened the elevator doors. Other SHUSH agents had arrived on the scene as backup and she ignored them. Right now, the only important thing was getting Webby (and Dewey) treated. Darkwing would have to take on Taurus Bulba until she had Webby safe.

 

If he wasn’t the usual blundering idiot he normally was. 

 

* * *

 

 

Louie was trying not to freak out and it wasn’t working. Dewey’s breathing was soft and his chest rose and fell, but it was shallow. He was also cold and tears pricked Louie’s eyes.

 

“C’mon. I told you that you can’t die on me and I meant it,” Louie whispered. “Where’s Uncle Scrooge?”

 

He looked up at the room and his vision swam. “Where is everybody?”

  
  



	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Darkwing's help, Gosalyn defeats Taurus Bulba. However, he's not going down without a fight (to be continued in the sequel).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hadn't planned on writing a sequel, yet there's going to be one anyway. XD I don't know why, considering how much I dragged my feet on finishing this...

Gosalyn had recited the instructions for the Ramrod three times by now and her heart pounded. She knew that with that information in his grasp, she no longer served a purpose to Taurus Bulba. However, maybe he’d let her go. After all, she couldn’t help him any further and there was no need for senseless bloodshed, right?

 

“You have what you want from me--let me go,” Gosalyn said. Taurus Bulba sneered, using the Ramrod to lift a bank off its foundations and then rob it. His eyes narrowed at her.

 

“You are right. I do have what I want from you. You are no longer of use to me, but you have seen too much. Therefore…”

 

He stepped back from the controls and grabbed Gosalyn by the front of her shirt. It then dawned on her how high up they were and how far it was to the ground. Of course, it wasn’t the falling that killed you--it was the landing. If she thought her heart had been pounding before, it was fit to burst her chest now. He was dangling her over the railing and she gulped.

 

“On second thought, maybe there’s something else I can help you with?” Gosalyn said with a sheepish smile.

 

“You can help me by dying,” Taurus Bulba snapped. He leaned forward and Gosalyn felt the wind brush past her face. She swayed, trying to kick her way free, but as she did so, he began to open his hand. She whimpered.

 

Purple gas surrounded both of them and Taurus Bulba sneered.

 

“What is this?” he demanded. “Who is there?”

 

“I am the terror that flaps in the night! I am the cold weather that just won’t go away! I am Darkwing Duck!” Darkwing announced and then grabbed both of them. He freed Gosalyn from Taurus Bulba’s clutches and she clung to him.

 

“And you have something that belongs to me,” he said, putting her down on her feet.

 

“I should have known you would show up to save the kid,” Bulba snapped. “Well, you are too late, Darkwing.”

 

“You know, villains always say that. It’s never true, though. Something invariably goes wrong. Like if someone ‘accidentally’ presses the wrong buttons…” Darkwing said and swept over the control panel. “Now...I don’t know the order that these buttons are supposed to be pressed in, but you know what? Let’s get dangerous!”

 

Then, as if he were playing the piano (badly, she might add), he proceeded to slam his palms down, creating a discordant sound that made her shudder. Taurus Bulba roared, lunging for him. Darkwing jumped in time for the Ramrod’s muzzle to swing about and point at Taurus Bulba. Darkwing smiled.

 

“Any last words before I send you to the slammer, Bulba?” he said with a smirk.

 

“You fool! You’ve ruined everything!” Taurus Bulba snapped. The bank had fallen back to the ground with a tremendous crash, making the roof beneath her shudder, and it had landed lopsided, like the Leaning Tower of Pisa, except with money. She thought she spied the Beagle Boys moving in on it. Like vultures to the scene of carnage. She rolled her eyes.

 

However, terror had not left her yet. As far as she was concerned, Taurus Bulba had not been vanquished and he could still hurt her or her father. That was if he could escape the acceleration beam he seemed to be stuck in. He muttered threats against Darkwing Duck and a figure swooped up onto the roof with them. Gizmoduck. Darkwing groaned.

 

“Oh, great. Not you,” he said. Gizmoduck stared at him blankly. At least, Gosalyn thought he was staring blankly. It was really hard to tell with that visor over his eyes.

 

“Not me what?” Gizmoduck said, baffled. “I’m here to apprehend Taurus Bulba.”

 

“He’s already apprehended,” Darkwing said dismissively. “Go home and play the superhero in Duckburg. Some people have better things to do than babysit wannabe superheroes.”

 

“I’m not--look, we’re on the same side. I can restrain him while you and the other adults get the kids safely home. I know what I’m doing.”

 

“Sure you do,” Darkwing said sarcastically. “And how many banana cream pies have you thrown today?”

 

“That’s not fair! I mean...I hit the wrong button and--”

 

“You’re powering the suit. With your brain. Wait, no, I see the problem. It’s your brain.”

 

“Dad, you could be a little nicer to him,” Gosalyn whispered. “It’s not like he’s done anything to you.”

 

“He’s trying to upstage me!” Darkwing retorted. “I am the one, the only Darkwing Duck!”

 

“Yes, yes. No one would mistake you for anyone else,” Taurus Bulba snapped. “Spare me your arrogance.”

 

“You’re one to talk about being arrogant,” Gosalyn said. She felt safer now with Taurus Bulba restrained, though she wished Darkwing would stop picking on Gizmoduck. What’d he ever do to him? And without being able to curl his lip, Darkwing still radiated contempt. It was amazing. How was Gizmoduck upstaging him, anyway? Just by showing up?

 

“We’re here for the kids,” Gizmoduck said, sounding a little exasperated, but mostly confused. “I can take Taurus Bulba downtown.”

 

“Oh, no, you’re not getting off that easily,” Darkwing said. “I will take the criminal downtown and you will bring the kids home. I’m the real superhero, in case you haven’t noticed.”

 

“I’m not really sure how that works, but okay,” Gizmoduck said. “Let’s not waste time arguing.”

 

“Ha, told you I was the real superhero,” Darkwing said, thrusting out his chest. Gosalyn facepalmed. Leave it to her father to win in a braggadocio contest. Not that she was surprised. Just...ugh.

 

“Dad, did you take your meds this morning?” Gosalyn said.

 

“Why, whatever do you mean, Gosalyn?”

 

“Because you’re acting crazier than normal,” she muttered.

 

“We’ll discuss that when we get home,” Darkwing snapped.

 

Gosalyn rolled her eyes. She was standing by her comment. Darkwing Duck definitely felt like he was off his rocker right now.

 

“Hey, uh, does anyone have any idea how to shut this thing off?” Darkwing said, suddenly sheepish. “It’s firing rays everywhere and, uh, oops. There goes the school.”

 

“Yay!” Gosalyn cheered. “I mean, uh, wow, what a tragedy.”

 

“That was not in the least bit convincing,” Darkwing informed her.

 

Gizmoduck rolled his eyes (or Gosalyn imagined he had) at Darkwing and then wrenched Taurus Bulba out of the beam. As he did so, the machine shuddered and seemed to gather itself for a final breath. That couldn’t be good. The front display was lit up and though it resembled nothing more dangerous than a giant computer, it looked like it was about to explode.

 

“Bicker later. Let’s get out of here now!” Gosalyn said.

 

“I agree with her,” Gizmoduck said. Before Darkwing had a chance to protest overly much (“hey, watch the cape--I just ironed that!”), he seized both of them and flung himself off the roof. Gosalyn whooped, Darwking groaned, and Gizmoduck halted, hovering about fifty feet from the building and scanning its occupants. Or so Gosalyn thought.

 

“Everyone’s out,” he said. “That’s good, because--”

 

He didn’t get a chance to finish his statement. The Ramrod exploded in a glorious rush of colors, mostly red, and knocked them for a loop. They crashed along three rooftops before settling on the fourth with her and Darkwing on top of Gizmoduck, who was lying on his back. The building they’d been in shuddered again and then began to fall apart. That...wasn’t good.

 

“Did you evacuate the surrounding area?” Darkwing Duck demanded.

 

“Of course I did,” Gizmoduck said, a tad defensive. “Part of SHUSH standard operating procedure.”

 

“Don’t tell me you’re in SHUSH. Seems like they’ll take just about anyone these days.”

 

“Guys,” Gosalyn said, impatient. “We need to find out how the others are. And we need to get out of here before that building knocks over anything else near it. Plus, did anyone see where Taurus Bulba went?”

 

She looked around. Taurus Bulba had landed on the rooftop near them and faceplanted into a garden. He looked like he was down for the count and Gosalyn hoped that he was. She didn’t trust him to be, but her patience for the situation was at an end. If Doofus had been apprehended, it meant her sister had won. But that didn’t mean her sister was in good condition. She had to find out how Webby was.

 

Bouncing on the balls of her heels, she watched Gizmoduck grab Taurus Bulba and prepare to lift off.

 

“No, that’s my criminal,” Darkwing said.

 

“Who cares?” Gosalyn interrupted, peeved. “It’s not like you own him. Let it go, Dad. Or do I have to sing you the whole song to get you to shut up?”

 

“Not that song,” Darkwing said and shuddered. “Okay, fine. I’ll let you have him this one time.”

 

“Hopefully there won’t be another time,” Gizmoduck pointed out. After doing a final check of the area, he departed with Darkwing Duck eying him like the superhero might make a detour and leave Bulba on a street somewhere. Gosalyn rolled her eyes.

 

“Let’s go. Now,” she snapped. “Before I start laying eggs.”

 

“Don’t be ridiculous, Gosalyn. You’re not old enough to lay eggs,” he said, distracted. She glowered at him. “Oh. Heh, heh. All right. We can go check on Webby and the others.”

 

“Finally,” she muttered. Searching for the stairs, she located them and then darted down. Aside from a brush with death, she was fine. Hopefully, the same could be said of Webby, but she had a dread feeling in the pit of her stomach that said otherwise. She needed to make sure her sister was okay.

* * *

 

The next thing Webby and Dewey became aware of was that they were sharing a room in the ER. Dewey was getting stitches and she was getting her back sterilized and treated. She felt exposed in her hospital gown and she glanced over at Dewey in the next bed over. He didn’t look like he was aware of what was going on, however. For one thing, he was hooked up for a blood transfusion and for another, he was on a strong sedative. It seemed like he was in a considerable amount of pain or had been before the nurses had hooked him up. She could sympathize.

 

“Webby!” Gosalyn cried and burst into the room along with the remaining triplets, Darkwing Duck, Scrooge, and Mrs. Beakley. Gosalyn rushed forward to hug her sister and then stopped, seeing the nurse there bandaging her up.

 

“What happened to you?” she asked.

 

“Doofus,” she said. It felt like the room was spinning and she was floating on air. “Doofus had an electrified whip.”

 

“When I get my hands on that guy, he’ll be so sorry,” Gosalyn hissed.

 

“He’s already sorry,” Mrs. Beakley reassured her. “He’s in juvey right now awaiting formal charges. And aside from some...collateral damage...everyone is relatively intact.”

 

“And I get a cool scar!” Dewey added.

 

“Yes,” Mrs. Beakley said, rolling her eyes. “And you get a cool scar.”

 

“Nothing happened to you?” Webby pressed. The urgency wasn’t there, thanks to the meds, but she was still worried about her sister. “You’re okay?”

 

“Almost fell to my death, but, hey, all in the line of duty, right?” Gosalyn replied with a bright smile.

 

“I think that’s enough adventure for one day,” Mrs. Beakley said. “And there are too many of us in the ER room.”

 

As she said this, a nurse gave them a dirty look, up until her gaze met Scrooge’s. Then she smiled meekly and vanished, her little dog tail tucked between her legs. Scrooge smirked.

 

“Still got it,” he muttered, looking smug.

 

“We’re staying here until you get discharged,” Darkwing Duck added. “Whenever that is.”

 

“Thank you,” Gosalyn said and smiled at Darkwing. “I mean it.”

 

“I’m sorry we snuck out,” Huey said, looking down at the floor.

 

“Aye, you shouldnae have done that,” Scrooge agreed. “And wee Webbigail suffered because of it. But we can discuss your punishment later. Your Uncle Donald should really be in charge of that.”

 

“Or maybe you could avoid punishing us entirely?” Louie suggested.

 

“Don’t press your luck,” Scrooge said darkly.

 

“We can discuss your punishment later too, young lady,” Mrs. Beakley said and Webby grinned sheepishly.

 

“Still, all’s well that ends well, I suppose,” Scrooge said. “Taurus Bulba is in jail and Doofus Drake has been apprehended. It all tied up very neatly, I must say.”

 

“What about Taurus Bulba’s henchmen?” Huey asked. “You captured them too, right? And the Beagle Boys, who were robbing that bank?”

 

“Wait, what?” Scrooge said. “When did all of this happen?”

 

Huey groaned, facepalming. “You didn’t catch any of them, did you?”

 

“Hey, cut the man some slack. He’s a good man, isn’t he?” Louie said and smirked at Scrooge. “Good enough to keep from punishing us.”

 

“I told you not to press your luck, Louie. I meant it,” Scrooge said and grimaced. “I’ll send Gizmoduck out after the Beagle Boys and the henchmen, but I suspect they’re long gone now.”

 

“Guess I should’ve been paying more attention to what was going on around me than arguing with Gizmoduck,” Darkwing muttered, blushing.

 

Scrooge groaned.

 

“Just what I’d expect from Darkwing Duck. Buffoonery,” Mrs. Beakley said.

 

“I’ve never done anything to you,” Darkwing snapped back.

 

“Let them argue, lassies,” Scrooge said when Webby and Gosalyn looked like they wanted to intervene. “Guess it wouldnae have been much of a conclusion without some loose ends.”

 

“So...when’s our next mission? What bad guy are we going after?” Gosalyn said, interrupting the arguing adults.

 

“You’re not going anywhere. You are going to stay home and be a normal kid, do you hear me, Gosalyn?” Darkwing demanded.

 

Gosalyn smirked. “Yeah, sure, Dad, whatever you say. Whatever you say.”

 

“That’s right. Whatever I say. Wait, you’re just humoring me, aren’t you?” Darkwing said.

 

Gosalyn smirked. Well, you can’t fool everyone all the time.

 

* * *

 

 

Taurus Bulba had been maimed in the explosion. He had nearly perished, as a matter of fact, and FOWL had interceded, taking him directly out of jail after Gizmoduck had dropped him in. He would have been more appreciative, had he been conscious at the time. FOWL had a plan in mind for him, though whether Bulba would agree would be something else entirely.

 

The Steerminator would rise and put an end to SHUSH and Darkwing Duck once and for all. They could rebuild Taurus Bulba, after all. They had the technology.


End file.
